


Captain Frost

by AntiqueWindows



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), NCIS
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntiqueWindows/pseuds/AntiqueWindows
Summary: Kelly Gibbs didn't die in the car accident with her mother, Shannon. She was kidnapped and forced into the world of spooks and intrigue. Now that she has escaped will she finally be able to rediscover who she once was? How will her father react to her return? Who will she become now?





	1. From the Ashes

It was over. The exploitation, the missions, the harrowing danger that left my blood cold and breath short. Mr. Zetes had been turned over to his enemies and the spoils of returned. Admittedly, I saved a nice sum for myself. I rationalized that I deserved something after all that I had been through. No amount of money could possibly be enough to compensate me for what I had lost.

It honestly doesn't seem real. All those years spent praying for rescue that never came. All those officials, diplomats, agencies, and spies that knew the insidious inner workings of the Zetes empire and turned a blind eye because the results were too good to interfere with. For every bullet and bomb I dodged, I was tempted to step in front of each one of them. To just end it. It would have been so simple and painless if done correctly. But I couldn't do it. What would my team do without me? What would be left of Project 7 if I wasn't here to act as a buffer between Zetes and the rest of the team? I couldn't chance it. In hindsight, I should have ran without looking back. The others be damned.

My life has never mattered more than the missions I was assigned to, or the people I saved. My hurt, my pain was nothing but a sacrifice that had to be made. Zetes preached to the high heavens about eradicating the evils of the world around us whilst ignoring his own hypocrisy in using children to do so. In his mind, the end would justify the means. "Complete your mission by any necessary," he would command in a voice that left no room for argument or mercy.

But all that was behind me now. I sat alone in a Berlin hotel overlooking the city. Stunned in silence at how much things had changed since just a few days ago. All I could think about was my father. I wanted to go home. I missed my Daddy. I mourned my mother. I wanted to stop moving, stop hiding, stop constantly trying to stay 10 steps ahead. I was tired of living within the minds of other people. Mr. Zetes taught us to be resourceful, capable, and smart. We were all brought into the fold to create a team that would act as force to infiltrate secret organizations and underground institutions. Zetes wanted to set free children from sex traffickers, stop cartels, and act as spies against enemies of the state without officially working for the state. I never quite knew what the state was since it was never one country's interests we worked toward. In the United States, legitimate spies are employed by their government and regulated by Homeland Security. They can be fired, hired, promoted and are always paid for the work they do. That wasn't how Project 7 worked. We were kidnapped, lured, and beaten into submission in a series of twisted games and scenarios designed to sharpen skills and make weapons out of children. He believed, if taught from a young age, spies could be bred and groomed into what their government most needed from them. I've been dispatched on hundred of missions these past 8 years . I started small with Zetes accompanying me, then slowly, as the team grew, he took a backseat and allowed us to carry them out. Once I was fully trained and deemed capable it was my job to create assets out of the others. I was the first "prototype" as he called me. Slowly the others joined and were eliminated or died in action. I rubbed at the sores on my wrists absently remembering how many self-destructed. Most never made it past the initial screening. Even more were weeded out once the torture sessions began. It took a strong mind to withstand the first half. And an even stronger spirit to not crack under the month long torture trial. After your mind was exhausted, and your spirited beaten, but not destroyed through sheer willpower, Zetes would begin building your loyalty and confidence. The man had an incredible God complex and the type of narcissism psychologists conducted case studies on. One of his defining strengths was the ability to convince others that his inflated sense of self was the real him. He even managed to pass these traits on to those that worked for him. Though I was never among them. I've been with the institute since I was 8 years old and I've been privy to the real Zetes more times than his ego would like. He could fool the others. He could convince everyone that he was the second coming of Jesus who would save the world and deliver us from evil. I wasn't fooled, I knew the man behind the bravado was vulnerable, but not weak. Intimidating, but not infallible. Filled with good intentions, but could never be truly good himself. Above all, he desired to be exalted for his works. Praised for the saving of humanity from the evils of the world. He was a monster that misled and twisted children to be who he wanted them to be with little regard for their own personal cost. In them, he nurtured and grew a Stockholm syndrome so intense therapy would have been useless. They were mindless drones. It was in those final moments staring into the fire that burned my eyes with its intensity that I realized you can't save them all. Not everyone wants to be saved. We all have things that we're willing to die for. They made their choice and I made mine.

But now the world seemed peaceful. As I watched the sky turn from blue to pink and white, I held in the tears I hadn't allowed to fall in almost 10 years. I had seen worst days. This wouldn't be the reason I broke. Even after all the chaos, the realizations, and trauma I still couldn't shed what he had instilled in me for all those years. "Tears are weakness. People die. And at the end of the day, no one cares anyway." I locked my emotions away in the same pink, glitter dusted box I always had along with the rest of my useless emotions and placed them back within the dark recesses of my mind. The familiar feeling of cool impassivity passed over me like salve on a burn. I welcomed the cool embrace of control and calm. The fires within doused for now. They didn't call me Frost for nothing.


	2. Begin Again

"A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare

to the jeweled vision of a life started anew." ― Aberjhani

My eyes squinted at the harsh sunlight that as I walked on to the uncovered tarmac of the Berlin Schönefeld Airport. Summer was coming in full force this year and for once I was enjoying the change of the seasons even if it was a particularly sweltering day that made me regret wearing sport leggings, a t-shirt and tennis shoes.

My steps felt lighter and I couldn't help the smile that pulled across my face serenely while bumping past other passengers. Sinking heavily into my seat I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding releasing the stress of the past couple of weeks. Berlin was wonderful with its bustling streets and sweet pastry aromas that stained the air, but I had had enough. Europe had been quite the change over the years for some like me with such humble american beginnings. It had changed me and morphed my perspective that no doubt would have probably been skewed and different had I stayed in America my whole life . Perhaps someday this rich continent would no longer be the backdrop to my night mares.

It felt weird to no longer be chained to some higher purpose. Making my own decisions wasn't something I was entirely familiar with and I didn't exactly trust myself to make all the right ones. But even that gave me a thrill. These would be my mistakes that would rest solely upon me. I could be a stupid teenager and get piercings and tattoos I would later regret. I could chase the moon until I lost my shadow if I so desired. It was such a crock of cheese, but the world was my oyster.

Passport in hand I realized the first thing I would need to do was change my name…. I had died years ago so the passport I used was one under a false name: Anouk Bellerose. Perhaps a touch too unique to be the undercover guise it was meant to be now that I really looked at it but a previous netflix binge had me in my feelings and one of the characters really touched me, okay? Oh well, I shrugged internally, the officials in customs hadn't batted an eye and that's what mattered. I'd have to remember to send Donnie a "thank you for smuggling me out the country" card once I landed. I don't think they make those at Hallmark. They should. They'd make a killing in the spy world.

I had several falsified document, passports, and identification cards that bore multiple names with varying ages. Crafted and perfected by the lovely Donnie to ensure easy travel between countries without alerting officials. At 16 I couldn't exactly be honest about my age without the "Where are your parents?" questions. Most of documents placed me in my early twenties which was easy enough to pass for thanks to my parents passing on their relatively tall genes. That and early development did tend to let me slide.

A wave of exhaustion as I allowed myself to let my guard lower a bit. These past few weeks had been trying and were finally beginning to catch up with me. Running on nothing but espresso shots and anger wasn't exactly the most sustainable method of energy, I thought wryly. The unnecessary surveillance swipe of the area calmed my nerves further. I had prescreened everyone on this flight beforehand and the familiar faces put me at ease. Anyone or anything out of place would have probably prompted me to deplane immediately. Was that excessive? Perhaps, but I certainly haven't survived this long letting the small things slide. Better paranoid than dead. I pulled my mother's t-shirt quilt over my legging clad legs and snuggled into my USMC t-shirt a little closer, finally letting myself get comfortable. My mom had sewn together all the tshirts my father brought home from his travels and made a comfort blanket of sorts for me when I missed him. When he returned he would tell me stories of the places he had been and anything he could that wasn't classified. Mom would then add the shirt to the collection that resulted in a patchwork quilt of colors and fonts that clashed terribly. I loved it. My USMC shirt was old and ratty enough to be unassuming. There were million them out there and with military bases littering Europe, it didnt unwanted draw attention. Even still, I hadn't allowed myself the indulgence of being seen with either of these items in public. This life of secrecy and espionage had cost me everything including my mother. All I had left was the knowledge of who my father was. Information was the crown jewel of the underground world and I refused to allow anyone or anything know I had something to lose.

My clothes up until this point had all been designer. Cold, aloof, and out of reach. They meant nothing to me since, in the end, it was all apart of the shield I wore to protect myself and identity. By extension, this included my dad. It might be reckless now, but I deserved the comfort after everything I had been through with the institute being destroyed and my own mutinous actions, though justified, that I still hadn't fully accepted. Besides, waking up in the middle screaming and covered in cold sweats was rather conspicuous and my parents tended to keep the nightmares away si i allowed myself this one thing. They were safely net in the chaos all these years and the only thing that kept me sane enough to keep pushing through the madness to find the light at the end of the tunnel. I kept my mother's memory with me all these years as a my solace, but she was also my greatest guilt. I had let her down. Failed her. She was dead because of me. It was my fault. No matter how hard I tried to shake the feeling I couldn't. The familiar cool of the locket she and my father had given me on my 8th and final birthday home brushed against my heart and chilled me.

I shook my head and resettled myself as the plane ascended. I couldn't get wrapped up in these emotions. I needed to keep my head on straight for when I landed in the states. I had meetings and sessions to attend and I needed to be on my A game for it. At some point I would need to face my father as well. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was an NCIS agent still living in DC in my childhood home. My throat tightened and my breath quickened at the thought of seeing him again. Of course I had dreamed about what it would be like to finally come home. To be reunited with my only living parent who I knew had missed me dearly. But would he still love the monster I had become? Would he be able to stomach the things I had done and the person I was now?

It seemed easier to avoid him, but I had spent my life full of regrets and I couldn't let this be one of them. He was all I had and he deserved to know the truth, even if the death of 8 year old Kelly Gibbs was easier to swallow than being a spy. I always dreamed of being reunited with him again but what exactly was I supposed to say to him? How does one begin to explain that their death was fabricated and the grief you've caused unnecessary? How could I prove that I was who I said I was. DNA testing was the obvious answer but would he listen long enough to even entertain the option? You can't exactly walk up to someone's house, ring the doorbell, and claim to be someone that died almost a decade ago. Things like that get you shot. I certainly would if I thought someone was trying to pull a cruel joke.

My father hadn't exactly healed in the healthiest of ways. I checked in on him religiously, and covertly, to ensure he was safe and happy. He rarely was. After a string of wives and failed relationships with redheads that simply didn't measure up to what he had with my mom, he resigned himself to his basement to make boats alternating between coffee and bourbon as a form of self medication. I felt the familiar sting of tears just thinking about how devastated he was as I watched helplessly from the sidelines. I wanted so badly to be there for him. We should have healed together. Buried my mother together and moved on, not unchanged, but better off than either of us were now. My heart ached for him, for us. I knew he wasn't perfect, but I had special kind of resentment for the women that marched in and out of his life. Call me biased, but despite being a poor husband he wasn't infallible and didn't deserve the vitriol thrown his way. I could have strangled Diane for twisting the knife in further when she left. For draining his bank account. I wanted to punch Jenny Shepard for discarding him like yesterdays trash when he didn't fit into her career goals. She was still to blinded by vengeance from what happened to her father and her own career goals. I almost scoffed at the memory, if she only knew how deep in her father was. Just because bad things happen, doesn't make the person involved a victim.

He was the happiest I've seen him when he was with her. I thought perhaps now he'll heal. He'll be okay now. But life comes at you fast, and it ended like all the others. Only the time, dad was on the receiving end of unfulfilled promises. Stephanie Flynn was nice and amusing. Honestly, she was the only one I could have tolerated as a step mother had I stuck around too see it all play out. Though I doubt he would have married so many times if I have "survived"….

Passengers, please prepare yourselves.

We will be landing in Barcelona in 15 minutes

I started suddenly at the announcement that rang out. Had I really been lost in thought for 3 and half hours? As the plane slowly came to life with passengers waking their companions and flight attendants collecting up last minute requests, I folded my blanket neatly and placed it inside my backpack. I had travelled light this trip and had all my clothes and shoes shipped ahead of me to the safe house in DC. I wasn't old enough to acquire an apartment or hotel on my own no matter how much money I had. Faking my age and name woud only get me so far in the states considering I was officially going "back on the radar." My fakes were only supposed to get me through customs. They weren't stable enough to establish a life here on my own. My connections in the government would set me back up a permanent identity and social security number. Something, anything to ground me here. Usually spies hated being tied down or stuck in one area. Its best to never get too attached to one place or time when you never know when you'll have leave. Or, you know, get barred from entering ever again. Life is full surprises.

I prayed that once I did find my father he would let me stay with him again. I had been alone my whole life despite living in an estate with several others. But the institute headquarters were cold, clinical, and sickeningly ostentatious. I couldn't wait to retreat back to the warmth of my single family home with my dad. Though I would never admit it outloud, I was starved for affection and love that wasn't conditional. Far too many times I could feel myself sinking further into the underground world, high off the thrills that would burn with excitement and leave me cold once it was all over. Once you get addicted to the rush and the high of successful assignments and close calls, it does something to you. It creates a hunger that can only be sated by diving back in head first. The idea of doing anything else is so boring it could kill you. But I had tasted the cool-aid of espionage and lies only to find the taste bitter and draining. If you live long enough, you'll get that one mission that takes you just a little too deep and tests your limits far past what you could handle, despite having a generous mental margin for the unexpected. It makes you sit and think: In the grand scheme of things, does any of this really matter? Am I really ready to die for this crap? Reality washes over you like an ice water and suddenly it's not so fun and you realize if you don't stop now, you may never get out. Too many spies never get that realization. They just die. Lost a lot of good people that way. For others, they are in too deep and couldn't really do anything else even if the opportunity arose. You can see it in their eyes. They've accepted their damnation and the resignation calms them. I've seen that look and it scares the hell out of me. People like dont have limits, there's nothing holding them here. Those spies are sometimes worse than the die hard, system patriots. You can't mess with people with no self preservation. They'll kill you.

I lined up to leave last not willing to to have anyone behind me. Old habits die hard. We all shuffled out, some half awake knowing this was just another point of transfer. Others walked out determinedly to head home for some rest. I stepped out in the warm sun and looked into the sky painted an array of pink, purple, and yellow bleeding into each other like a watercolor painting. The air was cozier here during the late afternoon. The sun having sunk further into the west to rest on the horizon blanketed the air with a much more bearable heat.

I wanted nothing more than to head back to another hotel and rest for the day having not slept on the plane, but I really needed to put some distance between myself and this continent. The faster I could get back to DC the faster I could meet my contact in DC and turn in my reports. I shuffled into the airport greeted by blast of cool air. My connecting flight didn't leave for another hour so I had some time to kill. The airport had a Starbucks and while I had had much more superior coffee and tea from local cafes, I decided I should get used to the dominance of franchises. I waited in line and perused the menu in the unusually sleepy cafe. I needed sleep and decided to forgo the caffeine and save it for my meeting when the extra espresso shot would kepp me alert for a long day of paperwork and briefing sessions.

"Bienvenidos a Starbucks! Puedo ayudarte?", chirped a dark haired woman named Carlota whose name was scribbled loopily on her black name tag.

I smiled sleepily and responded, "Sí, me gustaría un té verde helado con fresas y un croissant tostado."

"Bueno!," she said happily. I admired her. I would be fried if I had to work in an airport and still maintain a happy disposition all day. Once I paid her and she set off to make my order I settled at nearby table nestled next to the window that showcased the Barcelona cityscape. A shrill next to me pulled me out my thoughts. I fished out my disposable phone and answered curiously, "Hello?"

"K.G.! Glad you actually answered my call. Are you stateside, yet?" I rolled my eyes. "You know they have rules about phones on planes right? I haven't arrived just yet. I have a short layover in Barcelona and then I'll be landing in DC."

Amus was one of my government contacts and a wonderful friend. He was one of the few people on this earth aware of my legal name and people in the spy world was usually a big no-no. Forming attachment to people wasn't a good idea since you never know when you'll be forced to take them out. Nothing personal really, just business. But it's impossible to never trust anyone ever. The few friends I have managed to collect are irreplaceable. If being buddy buddy isnt an option, save enough lives and you can skate by by cashing in collected favors that let you live to see another day.

"Good to know. Listen, just a heads up, you're walking into more than a debriefing session when you get back. I can't say too much over an unsecured line but be ready for a proposition to be thrown your way." I looked up to see carlota walk over and hand me my food and I smiled my thanks.

"By proposition you mean I'm gonna be asked to do something."

"Yeah big time. No more spook work, but they ain't exactly gonna let you enroll into your local high school and become a cheerleader."

"Yeah I figured as much," I sighed. "Thanks for the heads up, Amus."

"Dont worry too much, you might actually like it. I'll see you when you get here."

I hung up the phone and shoved it back into my bag. Suddenly I wanted to extend my trip out for a few days. Take my time getting back not in any rush to become some government errand chick. That's not an option though. The feds are a petty bunch that love to make your life hell by wrapping you up in procedural BS like gutting your apartment of black mold "randomly." Getting your apartment torn up and material items confiscated by guys in hazmat suits tests your patience more that you think it would. I've certainly killed for less.

All that mind I quickly ate my food and trashed the remains. The faster I got this over with, the faster I could find a way out of it. Grabbing my stuff I headed over to my gate and lined up with the rest of the passengers.

I got to my seat, pulled out my blanket, and stuffed my bag under my feet. Might as well get some rest.

Washington, DC

Standing in the middle of the nation's capital usually left most people in awe of the history, sense of belonging, and gobsmacked at the power that lined the streets. I, however, felt nothing. I knew the secrets, the deception, the politics, and propaganda that went into propping this place up on its pedestal. I felt numb. I loved my country, but I certainly had no delusions about. But I also felt an internal pull that wanted to take me just outside of town and clambering back home.

I hailed a taxi from the street and gave him the directions to the an unmarked building in the middle of town. Stepping out of the cab I stared up at the medium sized block shaped building. It was chunky and looked like rough clay that had been scraped on the side of a cheese grater with it rough outside texture. Most would pass it off as a large, general office building. That's the idea. Despite my work diligent work to protect this country, spooks aren't exactly trusted or wanted in government buildings. By definition our work is illegal, so I can't exactly be seen strolling up the stairs of the Department of Defense. Spies are hired because they are efficient and unpredictable. They're the redheaded stepchildren of government workers. You ruin the wholesome image of the family, and tend to not know your place in the land of bureaucracy and hierarchies since you dont really answer to anyone when you do contract work. While necessary and useful, they don't exactly need you getting an bright ideas, going rogue, and blowing up government buildings. Hence the inconspicuous meeting place. Nobody cares about this craphole.

Amus texted me floor 8 room 101. I promptly took the elevator sweeping past the minimal security the building had. The halls were grey and poorly lit by cheap luminescents. The kind that made your skin yellow, your eyes hurt, and emitted that annoying low buzzing noise. The room was marked with fading paint that just barely made the 101 on the door visible. Amus assured me ahead of time that he would be here but I would be on guard in case they decided to shaft him at the last second. I had a gun tucked away at my side that I managed to get from one of Amus' and I's hiding spots in the park.

Opening the door I was relieved to find Amus sitting at the head of a wooden table in a minimally decorated room with no windows. Just a table and chairs that matched the grey and luminescent theme from the hallway.

Amus smiled at me, "Welcome back to the good ole US of A, babe."

The men at his side remained tense dressed in black with blank expressions. They were here to make sure Amus told me the necessary information and report back my decision. The powers that be knew of our close relationship and I was under no false impressions that Amus being chosen to do this was a coincidence. They needed a friendly face to convince me of something.

"Who are your friends?", I asked bluntly slipping the pleasantries he offered. I knew this situation for what it was immediately.

"Just some slackies the CIA sent by," he says rolling his eyes. "After everything that went down these past few years they're a little paranoid about what you'll do." So that's what this was about. They needed to know whether I was willing to be an asset or a liability.

Liabilities get handled.

"What do they what?"

" That's our Frost, right to the point," he says punching the suit next to him in the arm.

"Listen babe, ever since you dismantled Zetes and the Institute you've been on the government's watch list. I mean you were beforehand, you know, because of all your missions. But bringing down a whole organization makes you a person of interest. That in addition to the file you had to submitted which detailed your official psychological profiles of some of the world's more prominent drug lords, underground traffickers, rogue agents, and crime lords you've taken down made them interested." I stared at him blankly. "Here's the thing, they want you to join some sort of government organization. NSA, CIA, FBI, doesn't matter. You've got the skill, but more importantly it seems they're interested in tying you down."

"Tying me down?" I asked slowly. I didn't like this.

"Yeah. In their mind, employing you would give them peace of mind that you won't try anything funny. Before you had no allegiances, nothing that made your values concrete. You've been lucky that the work you've done has been to the benefit of the US and not to their enemies. This wouldn't be much of a conversation if you had", he said levelling his eyes at me. I would dead. They wouldn't have even let me touch US soil if they thought I had any treasonous leaning. He continued, "Look this isn't ideal but it gives you something to keep the suits from getting suspicious whenever you leave the house….it'll keep things from getting back to your father or effecting his work."

My head snapped from it's position toward the window to him and the suits. He knew how I felt about anyone even knowing about my dad. I was rejoining society but I was still protective of him. As far as anyone knew, Frost didn't have any family nor connections. Even Zetes didn't know I had family I still cared about. He would've used it to his advantage.

"Please just pick something, kid. I don't want these losers to have report that you don't wanna cooperate. I know you just wanna live off the grid as a civilian but if they can't employee you, they'll categorize you as a threat and you'll be on FBIs most wanted before your hand touches the doorknob."

Lost in thought I just sat there. Amus knew I needed a moment so he let me be. After a long pause I couldn't keep the venom out of my voice as I thought out loud,"There really is no end to this is there? I just wanna be free of all this and they're forcing me back in. After everything they did. They've got a lot of nerve giving me ultimatum given all I know."

The men at his side tensed at my words confirming my suspicions. They wanted me close because of that. I knew too much to be set free. They knew what they had done and this was their way of making amends yet using me again all the same.

He spoke again, "Frost, if you don't agree they'll go after the institute kids. They'll send them to prison. They just got home they don't deserve that. This isn't them talking, it's me. I know how this goes. Your best bet is taking one of the offers. You'll live a normal life and work lenient hours because you're still a minor. Your caseload would be light until you hit 18 or 21, depending on your supervisor. You can be with your father, rebuild your life. I even talked them into letting you and the others keep the money you settled with. But these offers are good. Benefits, security, and no forced missions. You've actually got choices, kid."

He had me once I realized the others would be jeopardized. Our futures depended on the decision I made today. They would either recruit me or sack the whole group. My friends didn't deserve that. I promised to keep them safe back then, and that stood even now. Letting out a long sigh, I knew my decision. It wasn't what I wanted per say but in a few short years I would need a job anyway. Why not start with what I knew best?

"Alright. What have you got?"

Amus let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God," he whispered almost too low for me to hear. "I can get you on anywhere in any department. You got any preferences?" He asked as he begun sifting through the paperwork in front of him looking at the options.

"Not really. Just don't wanna be doing punk work or someone's errand chick. I'm over being a slave to the system."

"Noted. What about team stuff? You wanna work abroad again? I could get you a nice embassy position in Europe, Latin America.." He trailed off.

"No. Weed out anything that would keep me from being based in DC. I wanna come home at the end of the day, but since it's federal work I can't avoid traveling. Just keep it in this country."

" Okay, Okay", he amended as he filtered them out based on my stipulations. "What about the FBI? You'd make a hell of an agent."

"What department?" I asked only half paying attention. Maybe I could get something interesting. If it was too cushy or paper pushy I knew I would slack.

"Sex crimes?" He asked hesitantly. I glared. "Okay Okay, thought I'd give it a shot. No sex trafficking. Well what about the BAU? You would fit right in. Especially with these profiles you've already written. You're practically self taught but that shouldn't be an issues since the founders were too. You've got the experience. It's a team, they travel a lot but you'd get to stay home since they're based in Quantico. You know this might be the best one, kid. Says here they just lost one agent so they'll need a replacement soon."

As much as I hated what spy work had done to my life, I couldn't deny I was good. Profiling was my strength hence why I managed to stay on top of the game. It wouldn't be so bad doing it for a living.

Taking my silence for hesitance Amus added, "They fly private too." Wiggling his eyebrows, I couldn't help but laugh. Amus was a sucker for the finer things in life.

"Alright I'll do it."

Satisfied that he had gotten me to agree, he passed me the file and had me sign some things. The government would create a resume for me and submit my profiles as a portfolio to the Supervisory Special Agent. Amus was convinced I was a shoe in and with the government backing me, there's no way they deny me the one department I had willingly agreed to. Amus insisted, they'd probably force his hand if they had to. I argued that my age would be a deterrent, still hoping to still get out of this but Amus assured that they would be given minimal information and allow me the luxury of disclosing anything more personal than my own name and qualifications. "Nobody has to know anything you don't want them to.

"Speaking of names, I need one. And documents, and a new passport. I ditched mine after I left customs."

"Way ahead of you, kid."

He pushed forward a file that had a birth certificate, social security number, an ID card and some other important documents for proof of identity. Apparently my surname would remain Frost. They had granted me my previous first name as a middle name in order to explain why people I may know previous to the accident would call me that. Only person that would would be my dad and maybe Maddie if she was still around. I missed her.

First name: Mason. Arching an eyebrow I looked at him and asked,"Mason? Really."

"It's the best I could up with. You know I'm not that creative. Besides it androgynous, its kinda cool," he defended.

I snorted. Whatever. It didn't matter what anyone called me. Just that I remembered to respond. This would be the only identity I needed to remember long term anyway.

"Yeah alright cool. Can I leave now?," I asked starting to stand up and grab my bag.

"One more thing." I sat back down heavily. I wanted to leave.

"You'll probably start sometime in the fall so be ready then. Enjoy the next couple months off. The workload for this team in intensive so make good use of it."

"Okay."

"And another thing!"

Frustrated I asked, "What Amus? Just spit it out."

He studied me for a second hesitating like he was about to tell me something he hadn't wanted to.

"It's about your father." My heart dropped into my stomach.

"What happened?," I asked lowly. This couldn't be happening. I just got back something couldn't have already happened to him.

"He was involved in a an explosion. He survived, hes fine", he added quickly seeing my expression knowing I was about to lose it.

"It's just that, Kelly he lost his memory temporarily. The last thing he remembered was being told you and your mother and died. Now even though he's since recovered, the emotional toll is still there like it happened yesterday. He put in his retirement and left NCIS. He isn't home and his co-workers don't know where to find him. But I of course, do" he smiled. I was too shocked to answer so I just stared blankly. "Why didnt you start witht that?", I asked coldly. This was certainly more important than making sure I got locked into some agency.

"Because you would have bolted the second I did. You wouldn't have stuck around long enough for to tell you everything and the suits would snitched. Now, hush. He went to see Mike Franks in Mexico. He's been staying there trying to gain his footing, I suppose. I have the address of the old beach shack they're at. I don't know what your next move is or how you're break any of this to your old man but you deserved to know. You asked me to keep an eye on him and I feel like I failed you by not seeing this happen. Even he did. He warned his superiors and they ignored him and then the blast happened. Im sorry K.", he finished guiltily.

I sat back heavily. It felt like the air had been taken out of me. I had come so close to losing him and I didn't even know. This was worse than when the Kate thing happened. This time, I hadn't seen it coming at all. Hadn't seen any of the warnings because my attention was solely focused on bring Zetes down. I should have been more watchful. I should have prevented this. I had saved my father before, but I had not this time. I let him down. Again.

"It not your fault, Amus", I whispered absently. "We can't stop everything. We're only human ." My own hypocrisy wasn't lost on me. I could forgive Amus, he was stretched thin as it was. He was good, the best. But stuff happens. I couldn't forgive myself though. My father was my responsibility and I had failed him. He was doing his best to recover from these past decade and this blast set him back so far emotionally I wasn't sure he'd recover. How was I supposed to help him as his daughter without damaging him further?

"His superiors. SecNav right? What's their names and social security numbers?" , I asked innocently.

Amus wasn't fooled. He smirked at me, "No you're not gonna kill them." I started to protest but he stopped me. "Kelly, you're in the clear. You have a new life, opportunities, and a second chance to be with your dad. I'm not gonna let you get sacked because of some bureaucratic pencil pushers."

I hated when he was right and he knew it too. Didn't mean I had to say it out loud.

"Now take this. You're gonna need some proof for him and Mike when you get there. I got your DNA tested and even had the guys upstairs submit the full reports citing the issues with crime scene from you and your mother's accident. They point out the holes and make statements testifying to its illegitimacy. Everything you need to prove your case is here. It won't be easy proving this to your dad so you'll need everything you can manage. I've got everything here. His address, contact number for the cantina where his takes calls at, and points of contact in Mexico should you need any help are all here. I even arranged a motorcycle for you to pick up at the airport. If you need anything else, let me know."

I smiled despite wanting to cry. Amus was an irreplaceable friend.

"Amus-" I started but he cut me off.

"I know. Without words, I know." He smiled at me in the way only old friends could. "Anything to make your mean ass smile every now and then.

"Shutup," I said not really meaning it. I loved him even if I didn't say so.

"And don't worry about the sessions and debriefing crap. I took care of it. Got them all from Ochoa. Knew you wouldn't be able to focus after this. He passed me the papers and got up to leave whistling to the suits like dogs. Pulling me to stand up and kissing me on my cheek he whispered in ear, "Go find your dad, kid."


	3. Ochoa

"If you have good friends, no matter how much life is sucking , they can make you laugh."

― P.C. Cast

Heat.

Unrelenting

Sweltering

Cutting

Blinding

If I thought the Berlin airport had been hot, I would have to reevaluate my idea of the concept as a whole. Mexico was in a league all its own. Looking around I wondered what the heck I had been thinking coming here in the first place. I knew why, of course. I knew for what, or rather who exactly, but in my haste to leave DC, head to the safe house, and then gather clothes for my stay I never really considered exactly how I would do this. The whole trip here was a blur. My emotions swelled and mixed around inside me until my vision blurred and my mind hazed. But now standing here just outside the airport I felt lost.

I didn't exactly know what to expect once I saw him again. My father had changed over the years and wasn't the man I knew at 8 years old. His blue eyes that used to sparkle mischievously with had dimmed only showing itself periodically. The boyish smirk he would wear whenever he teased her mom by saying something my 8 year old self never quite understood, but laughed at anyway, wasn't there. I mean he still had it, it just wasn't as the forefront of his personality. He had turned gruff, aloof, and serious. Not unlike myself, these days. I had the opportunity to watch him through the eyes of others and occasionally spying on him from a distance. For him, everyday was a fight to get through. Every moment he didn't spend working, he spiraled into what I knew he would never admit as depression. It wasn't obvious though. He remained an enigma to even his closest friends. Building walls so high that even the sun wouldn't shine through the cracks. That place was dark and lonely yet comforting and the darkness was a safe place. A reprieve. I knew the feeling.

The scenery that passed me by leading to the Mexican village, flew in a stream of senseless colors.

I had changed too. I knew it all too well that memories of people far exceeded the reality. When faced with the reality of actual complex and broken individuals, we often balk at how hard it truly is to love them. We realize that the idealized version is what made our hearts ache, not them. What if my father wouldn't love me as I was anymore? What if 8 year old Kelly, and who she was supposed to be, was what he wanted to see after all these years? I was jaded, cold, and ruthless. Or so I've been told. My father changed, but I still loved him more than anything else in the world. He could be the gruffiest, meanest grump in the world and I'd still love him to pieces because he was my dad and my very best friend when I was kid.

But I couldn't envision the same for me. The words of my teammates rang in my ears, "You're the coldest person I know." That's where the name came from. My icy blue eyes and personality had earned me a nickname I had never bothered to shake. The small cut in my eyebrow only served to make me look fiercer. Back then it didn't matter what people thought of me. At the time, the sentiment had earned them a humorless smirk and a shrug of indifference. But now, it cut like ice. I wasn't emotionless. Not at all. I felt everything. So intensely. With such white hot pain and depth I feel the weight of it and still carried that everyday. It had gutted me like a fish and left me empty. Now I was just numb. Tragedy and death didn't shake me the way it should. I could bottle it up and save it for later. That was my job. That tends to happen when your boss makes it a habit to kill people in front of you daring you to flinch. It happens when you've spent the better part of a decade with silver bracelets attached to both arms that would kill you on command should your allegiance or nerves sway.

I took a deep breath and pulled myself out of the darkness from within that had crawled out and dimmed my vision. The bus lurched to a stop in the middle of small town. Being one of the only passengers, the driver looked at me expectantly and somewhat curiously. My stony expression, that had no doubt clouded my features, melted as I plastered smile across my face and stood. I quickly stepped off the bus with a quick, but sincere, thank you. Looking around I took in the town around me. The small village had dirt roads and buildings in vary shades of orange and yellow with colorful doors lining the streets. People strolled along the street in the slow, beach town.

I had been to every continent around the worked and had seen countless cities and countries. But for the first time, I was actually seeing the world around me. I could really see just how blue the sky was and the richness of the orange dust that swirled and settled around me upon the bus' departure. Had the world always been this beautiful, this captivating?

Looking around I spotted a small church nestled between two building. The catholic church had curving Spanish tiling that offset its pristine white structure. I felt drawn to it. In recent years, I had felt the need for some sort reprieve from the insulated world of the institute. It could eat you alive and suffocate you with regret and fear. One night after a particularly intense mission that was doomed from the start, I stumbled into an old English church in a small countryside town. I just needed some time to rest and be alone with my thoughts and churches often left their doors open at night. I spent all night in there just calming myself and enjoying a pleasant chat with the one of the bishops.

I had never been all that religious, fleeing from any sort of condemnation or light offered to me by organized religion. I had seen too much and lived too darkly to feel worth saving, but in that small quaint town I started to feel like there something more. Something much more sovereign than Zetes who, at the time, was the center of my universe. It was then that the cracks had begun to form allowing small streams of light to pour into my world. I had never been shown such understanding and sincerity. The plump bishop with a rosy cheeked smile seemed to see right through me. He got me to talk, open up, and be as vulnerable as I could really allow. With one simple question he broke down my walls by imploring quietly, "Are you okay?" Not a soul had asked me that in years. I wasn't okay. Hadn't been in years. I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable and exposed under the weight of his questioning, yet gentle brown eyes. But instead of retreating and rebuffing him harshly the way I would anyone else, I fell to pieces in small church in front of stranger. Unbeknownst to anyone, and even myself, that was the beginning of the end of the Institute and everything I had built.

I walked slowly past the small place of worship noting its location in case I needed it in the coming days. My dad was here in this town according to Amus. But I couldn't even chance seeing him until I figured out exactly what I was going to do. I turned around a few times until I found the local restaurant that Amus had said the motorcycle would be parked behind. Going around back I found the light blue bike he was referring to that was probably more of scooter than motorcycle. There was note tied to the handle with my name on it in his famous sloppy scrawl. I laughed to myself a bit. He probably figured it was better to be a bit more inconspicuous in the sleepy town than having some gringo roar about on a motorcycle.

I quickly boarded the lightweight scooter and veered towards the outskirts of town where a small yellow house would be waiting for me. Amus had thought of everything and had a running tab set up with the owner that I could pay whenever I finally left. Pulling up to the small house I parked my bike and walked across the cobblestone pathway up to the front porch. The key was in between a bed of flowers just under the soil. I opened the door and took in the whitewashed space. The little home was well looked after and obviously meant for visitors.

The floorboards creaked under my weight and but thankfully didn't give. I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders thankful to relieve myself of the weight after such a long journey and left it by the door. I would unpack later. I simply didn't have the energy to do so now. As much as I wanted to collapse on the sofa and sleep off the trip, I needed to meet up with Ochoa at the local cantina. I promised him I would meet for an early dinner as soon as I got settled at the cottage. I pulled my little phone from my front denim shorts pocket absently reminding myself that I would need an actual phone that wasn't almost as old as I as was.

I dialed Ochoa and waited for him to pick up while puttering about the kitchen looking through the cabinets that had been stocked.

"Hola?"

"Hola 'choa"

"Whoop whoop my ice ice baby! You here?"

"Yeah got here not too long ago. Ready for dinner?"

"Came from two towns over just for you, mi amor. Of course I am. Meet me in 15?"

"That'll work."

I quickly hung up and went to go grab my bag and place it in the bedroom across the hall. The room was nice and spacious with a window that dominated the far wall. The bedding was a clean light blue with matching pillows. Apart from the sitting chair diagonal to the bed and the tan rug in front of the bed, the room was simple yet cozy. I rushed outside and headed into town to meet Ochoa.

Ochoa was one of the institute kids that had been freed upon the death of Zetes. There were several of us in total, but I would only call a handful of them friends. We were all sort of bound by our shared situation and I had trusted them with my life countless times over the years. However, after the Institute crumbled, we all had an unspoken agreement that seeing each other ever again in this life would be something we could live without. Ochoa was one of the exceptions. At 6'5 and 260 lbs he towered over most. But his outer appearance betrayed the man that lived underneath that was incredibly loving, resilient, and deeply proud of his Oaxaca indigenous roots.

Being in charge of everyone else made me isolate myself when the pressure to live up to Zete's expectations became just too much. Sometimes I would sit in the rain just to let the cool water wash over me like it could heal me somehow. 'Choa would come outside sometimes and join me, when he sensed I wouldn't mind the company, and bring me one of his famous smoothies or a snack. Usually mangoes con chile. They were his favorite and they became our bonding food. He could peel my soul off the ground when it felt like it had broken to pieces and make me laugh just when I thought I would cry. Despite everything we went through under Zetes, Ochoa remained his fun-loving, cheery self. He really was the sun incarnate.

I parked my bike behind the Cantina and rounded back towards the front to find my friend. He was hard to miss once I stepped inside. He stood heads above everyone else and was clearly flirting with one of the waitresses.

"...for me? Just this once. It'll be our secret," he drawled charmingly to her in Spanish obviously trying to get some kind of special treatment. She looked like she was trying to play hard to get by not giving in, but it was a losing battle from the looks of the smile that threatened to crack across her face. I rolled my eyes and walked over not at all sorry to interrupt his playful begging.

"Choa, leave the poor woman alone. She doesn't wanna be harrassed by you and your nonsense all day," I laughed while pulling my seat out and sitting down.

"Escarcha in the flesh! What has it been weeks, months, years since I've seen this beautiful face?"

"Days. About 4...tops," I said sarcastically.

"See? Eons ago! Seems like just last month you were busting Colombian drug lord and threatening to choke him death with his own dental floss," he sighed.

"That was last month headass."

"Tsk, tsk. Time sure does fly when you're having fun with friends", he smiled indulgently. I can't stand him.

I scoffed, "Yeah I guess it does."

"You're looking better. That snarl on face is gone, your hair doesn't look so dry. Guess you found whoever's been pissin in your cheerios and got ya self a new bowl."

"Wow, just drag me I guess."

"Es por cariño," he says grabbing my face making kissy noises.

Snatching my face and slapping his hand I growled, "Don't make me come across this table on you."

"It wouldn't be the first time,'' he shrugs unbothered.

"Yeah and obviously it won't be the last," I shot back.

He just laughed and shook head. Ochoa was like the annoying big brother I never asked for. Or wanted.

"What did you wanna meet for other than to criticise my hair regime?"

Putting down the umbrella in his drink that he had been picking his teeth with his eyes lit up."So, girl,'' he say theatrically. I sigh knowing this is about to be one of his dramatic retellings.

"I was in town, minding my business, when I overhear two ladies outside the bar talking about this sexy old gringo that just got here a few weeks ago. Now I'm not one to gossip so you ain't hear this from me." Ochoa is gossips like an old woman, but I don't interrupt. "This isn't unusual seeing as this town isn't exactly a tourist destination and outsiders tend to stick out. Now you know I have eavesdropping issues so I'm playing with some old man's banana pretending not to listen."

At the look on my face, he raises his hand like he's about to backhand me and spits through his, "Not like that ya heathen. There are fruit carts around. Any-way, they say he's living with Franks but takes all his calls at this cantina. Now they're all sad because apparently he almost never comes into town. Whenever he or Franks need something, they have Maria the manager bring it to the house. Phone calls, groceries, anything. She's on and off with this Senor Franks so she doesn't mind. However, Franks does come into town during happy hour everyday. That's your window."

At first I just blinked at him marveling how he could say all of this without taking a breath in between. Then it hit me what he finally said. "So Franks comes out but never my dad? Great. At least with my father I had something to say to him…..kind of. I don't even know Franks. I only know him through his file." Sighing I thought for moment. "How receptive do you think he'd be if I approached him first with questions about an old case? I mean I have documents to prove the case raised some issues that would have raised red flags."

"Hmmm, confronting a retired federal agent claiming they botched a case? Not a good start."

"Yeah but the issues with the case wasn't the investigative side of it. He was spot on with who did it and how. It was those involved in forensics and autopsy that covered up my survival. Franks didn't need to know how we died, it was obviously the crash. He was looking for a killer. He had no reason to question what Anderson told him about us."

"Is Anderson the forensics guy or the medical examiner?"

"He was the ME's assistant at the time but he helped out with forensics because they were so short staffed that autopsy and forensics shared. They practically worked in the same room. He smuggled me out to Zetes and covered for it."

"How did he manage to cover for you? Someone had to see the body sometime? And if you're here, who did they bury ten years ago?"

"Some poor soul that matched my general description. I took quite the beating in that crash so they borrowed some other girl, probably a trafficking victim, and smashed her up to give her similar injuries and my old dance clothes. My grandmother only identified my mother's body. She couldn't stomach mine, so they used botched forensics to confirm it and no one knew to question it. Besides the NCIS agent that was shot by the sniper was the focus of the investigation. There was no reason to hold us in the freezer any longer. We both looked so beat up it was a closed casket funeral too."

He sat back and looked off in the distance digesting everything I told him.

"He's gonna want some hard evidence. You can't go in there blindfolded tryna tell him the color of the room."

"Don't I know it. I have the documents and even a DNA test but even with all that on hand…"

"It's gonna be a hard sell," he finished knowingly. "You're in quite the pickle, pumpkin."

This was quite the pickle. How does someone claim to not be dead anymore and what is exactly is the lead up for something like that? They don't exactly make a "How to come back from the Dead" book for dummies. That in addition to the spy element wasn't going to strengthen my argument either. I would sound like a lunatic and even if I did see my father first I would probably do more damage than good. He could lash out at me and drive me away. I don't think I was ready for that. I'd fought a lot of battles over the years but none of them had been emotional. This wasn't some mission. It was my life.

Feeling a bit defeated I said, "What am I even doing this for? All this trouble I'm gonna go through convincing Franks and then my dad, both of whom may not even believe me, for what? This could just be a waste of time."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this doesn't matter. He'll be fine and so will I. We both have been so far," I shrugged not really convincing myself.

"Hey," he says roughly picking up one of the chips from the appetizer bowl between us and throwing at my forehead. "Don't you shut down on me. Since when do you give up when things look hard? How many times have you kicked me in the cojones for backing down even when our backs were to the wall and barrels at our chest? I would have embraced this quitter attitude back in Israel a year ago, but now it just pisses me off?"

"Israel wasn't that bad, don't be dramatic," I said trying to change the subject.

"Piss off, I took a round to the chest and Sardinha lost the tip of her ear."

"Okay but did you die? Alright then," I shot back.

"Don't change the subject. Frost, I know you aren't always aware of this but you're only sixteen. You're the most capable person I know, but that doesn't exempt you from basic human needs. No matter how many people think you're infallible, I know you're not. You're just kid. You don't need to shoulder the weight of the world all the time. And I can see in your eyes, you think your father will turn you away once he knows the real you. You think he can see the blood on your hands, and maybe he can, kid. I won't lie, it's in your I do know that when I got home after being gone for 7 years, my mama and my abuelos didn't care how many throats I had slit and or how many people I had shot long range, a number which by the way I'm proud because it's spectacular," he said stopping to brag. Ochoa was really something else. "They cared that I was back. It's not like we were raping and pillaging, carino. You've broken down sex trafficking rings, busted drug rings, dismantled entire cartels, and your marine father would be proud to know just how many prisoners of war you've rescued. Your father is in a foreign country reeling from the traumatic memories of losing you and your mother. Will he be shocked? Heck yeah. I'd think your ass was a zombie or something, especially with those under eye bags. But I doubt he'll care about the how unless it was still a threat. Quit looking for excuses, and charge the mountain."

I was shocked. 'Choa wasn't usually this serious. I mean he was usually the one to encourage the team before a mission, but after years of being the one to put others in their place I wasn't used to having it done to me by a subordinate. But 'Choa wasn't a subordinate anymore, I reminded myself. I couldn't be offended when he gave me the kick in the butt I needed.

"Wow 'Cho that was really something."

"Forget you, I got depth," he defended jokingly throwing another chip in my hair.

"Careful you're gonna make my newly lustrous hair dry again," I said flicking away the piece onto the ground.

He snorted, "God forbid that dry ass Lara Croft braid makes a comeback."

I hate him. Like, with all I have.

"You want me to buy you dinner or nah?"

"Heck yeah, I'm not about to dent this reparation check just yet."

Changing the subject to more pleasant topics, we talked about our "after lives" and settling back into civilian life. Mostly 'Choa's since he had done more than I had since being back. He came from a large family of about 10 siblings and countless cousins. He was going back to a quieter life, stating "the big bad world was fun but I missed swimming in lake, catching fish, and helping my mom with chores." He planned on using the money he had to help his community and invest in some much needed development and conservation projects since tourism and the commercial real estate industry had begun encroaching upon the smaller villages. He didn't want his village to fall victim to greedy foreign investors.

The downfall of the institute had been a hard fought battle with the losses of great people that would forever haunt me. While I never knew if I had made the right decision, hearing 'Choa talk about his new life and all he had done to help the people and the country he loved would making sleeping at night easier. It was after conversation like these that I could feel myself begin to slowly make peace. It was all still too fresh to heal, but it was certainly a step in the right direction.

I didn't tell 'Cho about my deal with the FBI and becoming a federal agent in the fall. I left that out. He would worry and ask questions and all I wanted him to do was enjoy the new life he had carved out for himself. He didn't need to worry about me. No matter what, I would make it. I always had.

After dinner he insisted on following me home even though it was 15 minutes in the other direction. I said no, but he all but threw me over his shoulder and carried my bike home. Once we arrived he told me to call if I needed anything, that he was only phone call away. I agreed knowing he'd come pounding at my door if I didn't check in every now and then. He'd want to know the progress I was making and if I needed backup. I promised knowing I would try to keep the calls to a minimum and probably wouldn't bother him unless I absolutely had to. I was a big girl and the fact that I was dealing with "daddy issues" was embarrassing enough.

After 'Cho left I washed off the day and changed into a fresh, big t-shirt for bed. Tomorrow I would need to find a way to make that Cantina a routine in my daily life and find a way and reason to talk to Franks. He might be retired but you never really that instinct that made you suspicious of strangers in a small village. Especially when all the white people in the area could be counted on one hand. I had to be careful and I really only had one shot at this. One wrong move and he would either label me crazy or shoot me. Or both. But I'd rather be shot at by Franks than face my father too early and mess it all up. My thoughts plagued me until I couldn't take them any longer and I drifted to sleep, praying to the God I was still afraid to approach for the best outcome.

 

Es por carino: Something said with affection. He's basically saying, "It's because I love you" or "Its with love." Something people sometimes say when they say something harsh or criticize you constructively.

Escarcha: Frost. Someone let me know if there's a better word for this.

Gringo: foreigner, usually refers to people from the united states and/or most usually white people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Es por carino: Something said with affection. He's basically saying, "It's because I love you" or "Its with love." Something people sometimes say when they say something harsh or criticize you constructively.
> 
> Escarcha: Frost. Someone let me know if there's a better word for this.
> 
> Gringo: foreigner, usually refers to people from the united states and/or most usually white people.


	4. Project Jacuzzi

The sun poured in from the windows penetrating the sheer curtain that covered the windows. The sounds of the waves crashing against the ocean mixed with the sound of the gentle breeze was enough to lull me back to sleep. I had been sleeping well these past few days for which I was thankful. I needed to get up now though, the mail would be arriving sometime today and as soon as that got here I was heading to the Catina for happy hour. Taking Ochoa's advice I went ahead and made the necessary arrangements. I was tired of waiting around and second guessing myself. I never had before and this was the worst time to start.

Yesterday, I phoned Amus and asked for an FBI identification card. He was overnighting by jet so I could have it this morning. I was being forced in anyway so I may as well milk it for my own benefit. I would take the file Amus gave me with all the necessary evidence and confront Mike Franks about what had happened. I knew the finer details myself but I was curious about what went unwritten and unspoken between third parties.

I had nixed a thousand ways of getting to that house. I had thought of getting a job at the Cantina, convincing Maria to help me, and impersonating someone yet none of it felt that it would get me anywhere. It was either messy or involved more people than necessary. Sometimes the most straightforward plan is the best one.

I lazily roamed the kitchen pulling together breakfast as I continued to plan out every aspect of this. I didn't need to wear an all black suit and aviators to convince Franks that I was FBI, thankfully. Just the thought of wearing all that in this heat made me chafe.

Just as I was plating the omelet, there was an knock at the door. When I opened the door I found young guy around my age at the door giving me a beaming smile that radiated against his tanned skin. "Hola!," he greeted cheerily and held out the package for me. I reached into my wallet and handed him a few dollars, thankful he had gotten it to me so quickly. This was a secluded village and I was worried the delivery would be delayed. He beamed at me surprised and said his thanks. I watched him sprint away and pedal off to his other deliveries. Amus never failed to come through.

I closed the door and took the package with me to the living room forgetting all about the omelet I had actually been looking forward to eating. I tore it open and there lay exactly what I needed. Amus had probably sprung and just had a real one done. The identification certainly looked genuine. While I could McGyver my way through most things, crafting a fake federal ID card was gonna be tough in such a small town. The picture of me was from a year or so ago when I was posing as lab tech at a research facility in Austria. I had about a pound of contour on trying to pass as a graduate student. It was probably the only decent picture of me that was appropriate for this purpose.

Without wasting anymore time I jumped in the shower and changed into some casual clothes. I put on a knee length flowy chiffon dress that had the sides cut out in sideways triangles. I needed something summery to look like I was on vacation, but also flowy enough to cover the "service weapon" I had strapped to my thigh. Looking at my hair in the mirror I suddenly wished I had actually cut it when I planned to. Too late now. I simply left it in long waves, pulled on some sandals, and grabbed my leather slouchy bag.

Happy hour was just starting and, according to 'Choa, Franks never missed a day there. I doubled checked that I had all my necessary items and headed off.

Arriving at the Cantina I expected more people. They were obviously occupied with customers but, like everything else in this town, it wasn't a particularly large affair and the atmosphere was a controlled enjoyment that contrasted with the rowdiness of happy hour in the States. Walking in my eyes scanned the crowd, I immediately recognized Franks from my years of spying on my dad. He was a little older now, but hadn't changed much from his NCIS days. Just looked more relaxed with smirk on his face as he took long draws from his cigarette and swishes from his beer bottle.

It was now or never. I had been undercover most of my career, but now I would actually have to get used to being this person. I squared my shoulders and put an easy smile my face and lightened my stride to offset him detecting the weapon on my thigh. I had his attention once I entered his line of vision. Thankfully, he was nestled at the back corner so we could talk privately, but that also meant I caught everyone else's attention during my walk towards the corner of the bar.

"I'm Mason." I introduced myself in my new name sitting down.

He arched his and laughed. "Alright. I like a woman with confidence. You're a bit young to be hanging out in a bar like this."

"Not in this country."

"You on spring break?"

"Not quite. But I have taken a break of sorts to come looking for you."

"Me? And just who do you think I am?"

"Mike Franks, retired team leader for NCIS."

He leaned in close, all traces of jest disappeared from his face and put his cigarette out.

"Only a handful of people would know to come looking for me here. Who are you?"

I kept the smile on my face for the sake of everyone in the restaurant as to not draw suspicion. "You should tighten your circle. I'm here to gain some clarification on old case of yours from about 10 years ago."

"Now those are big questions ya got there, little lady. What gives you the right to ask them?"

"Mason Frost, I'm with the FBI."

"The FBI you say?" he said a bit incredulously looking me up and down. I slide my ID across the table for him to inspect. Placing his cigarette in his mouth and examining it in the light for a moment, he shook his head. "They get younger every year..."

"You're telling me," I said unable to keep some of the bitterness out of my voice.

"So what, did one my fugitive reenter the country or spring out jail or something? I'm retired now. Too old to be chasing some reprobate around. Everything I knew about anything is archived at NCIS, some are even at FBI headquarters." He said leaning away from me and gesturing to the waitress for another beer ready to dismiss me.

"I know all that. I'm talking about a murder case that had some holes in it. The killer was identified but there wasn't enough evidence to stick in the end. But the murders are not what I'm here for, I'm here because one of the victims never died. The perpetrator worked for NCIS."

His snapped back to look at me. I was accusing one of his team members now. I had his full attention now. "Never died? I saw all three bodies on the slab in autopsy. One of them was a fellow agent, a young woman, a little girl, the daughter of my-" He stopped realizing he was almost yelling now. He collected himself and started again,"Just who are trying to implicate here and who exactly are you claiming isn't dead? Cause they for darn sure were once the ME got done with 'em."

"And that autopsy room is where the crime took place-

He interrupted, "The ME at the time was dang near blind and senile. He died not too long after too. You can go throw the cuffs at a grave all ya want."

I calmly explained to him the events that took place the same way I had to 'Choa. I even added that the ME at the time, while old, probably hadn't died of natural causes. I once heard Zetes placating a panicked Anderson by saying he had "taken care" of the snooping Medical Examiner. The poor, old doctor had found a discrepancy and was ready to report it.

He turned a ghost white once I revealed that Kelly Gibbs had not died but had been kidnapped and forced into exploitation. I could see his mind immediately jumping to conclusions while his face turned murderous but green, I quickly assured him it wasnt that kind of exploitation. While she had been used for bait she wasn't harmed. At least now in that way, I thought darkly. He looked like he didn't want to believe it ,so I handed him the thick file that had been compiled by the CIA. It was a lot easier to allow Franks to read about Zetes and his Institution rather than recounting it himself. The thought made oddly emotionally knowing I would soon have to verbally explain everything to my father. He would have questions that a file couldn't answer. It left out details. He deserved to hear them from me anyway. Mike set aside his beer and squashed his cigarette to pick up the file. I sat there for about for an 20 minutes while he read through the dense reports. He stopped at a picture of me from a collection of photos used to advertise the children for sale at a "gentlemen's" banquet. My eyes were a bit glassy from the drugs I had been given. Recognizing me from the pictures he had no doubt seen in my father's possession, he stopped whispering to himself, "Oh god, Probie.."

He looked up me desperately asking, "Where is Kelly now? Please tell me she

isn't…"

"No. She's alive."

"Where? Her father….he...don't ask me to keep this from him. I wont," saying the last part forcefully.

"I'm not asking you to," I promised. "She'll want to see him too."

"When? She can come anytime. Hell, I'll pick her and bring her here."

"Right now. You're looking at her," I said around the lump in my throat. I needed to get it together.

He just looked at me perplexed. His sharp eyes pouring over my features. Looking back down, he almost tore the pages to get back to the photo he had seen of me in the file. He plucked it out of it clip and held it up comparing the similarities. Realization dawned on him as he looked into my eyes. The ones my father had given me.

"I have a DNA test to prove it. If the photo isn't enough…" I said unnecessarily. I knew he knew. I just didn't want him to think we working off a photo only.

He closed the folder slowly, shaking his head, "Don't need it. You're definitely his. Kelly I'm- If I had looked closer, taken the time to actually see your face I would have noticed something was off.."

"Don't apologize. Your job was finding a killer. I was unidentifiable anyway. Or at least the girl they used was. Internal crimes are hard to detect, no one expects a lab assistant to abuse evidence. There was no way you could have known. But I came to see you. because I need help."

"Anything. Name it."

"My father...I need to make sure he's okay. I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything but I don't want to shock him and confuse him right now. Especially not so soon after the accident. He's still having trouble gaining his footing in the present and accepting the past. I don't want to delay his recovery by throwing a curveball of sorts when he's healing….I know how he reacted the first time when we died.."

"You know about-?"

"Yeah I do. Which is why I don't want him knowing just yet. If he was healthy, it would be hard, but a different situation. I have a umm..delicate relationship with our government and an act of vengeance won't change anything now."

"Because you're FBI now."

I rolled my eyes, "Yes and no. It wasn't my choice really but it keeps them off my back for now."

He was confused at that but ignored it for now and asked, "So what can I do?"

"I just need a reason to be around. I'm not sure what he does all day. I wouldn't want to intrude upon you helping him or get in the way."

He barked a laugh for the first time, "Are you kidding me? Probie doesn't talk about his feelings. He barely talks as is. He just fixes that dang roof all day. Told him he should make me jacuzzi instead…"

"What if I build the jacuzzi for you? It would give me a reason to be there. Just say I'm a college student looking to earn some money over the summer or on a mission trip or something. He may not even ask."

"Ya ever build a hot tub a before kid ?," he laughed.

"No, but an old marine once taught me how to build a boat," I said smiling a bit remembering how often he I would bug him all day to teach me.

"Well let's get going. Ain't no use dallying around now. Let's roll, kid."

We both stood up and started heading out the door, "Thank you for this, Mr. Franks."

"No need. I like to tie to loose ends. Beside Probie deserves this."

It warmed me to know that despite my father's turbulent love life, he always had such a genuine group of friends that were just as loyal as he was.

Walking outside we loaded up into Franks' old truck just outside the Cantina headed for his house.

"How much extra wood do you have?," I asked remembering I had to actually make this believable.

"Too much. But if you need more there's plenty lying around and an old wood shop just outside of town."

"How much do you need for the roof ?"

"Not sure, that Probie's area. I mean it keeps the sun out so it seemed fine to me. Hurricane season aint that bad, a few leaks here and there but certainly not catastrophic enough for him to be working from sunup to sundown to beat it."

That didn't surprise me. My father had never relaxed a day in his life. Even when I was kid and he was home from deployment, he was always doing something. Tinkering with the plumbing, painting, handiwork for the neighbors, just anything. No one in our neighborhood ever spent on dime on home repairs. I once had to make a birdhouse for project in school, and of course I didn't say anything until the night before it was due. We sat down in the basement all night while my mom lectured me about procrastinating, and my dad made the whole thing for me never saying a word about my poor time skills. The only thing I did was paint it and even then I only finished one wall before falling asleep.

Mike jerked to a stop in front of what looked like an abandoned wooden shack that sat in front of the beach. It slanted slightly to the side and looked like the next big windstorm would blow it over. The door shuttered open slightly in the wind and stuttered shut repeatedly. Looking at the house I realized my father may not have nervous energy after all. He might just be trying to make sure the house didn't collapse in on him. I could vaguely see his form hammering away at the roof with his back to it. Only a man that had looked death in the face and lived would have enough nerve to sit atop this house of cards everyday.

I really tried not to let my face give away my reaction to Mike's shack. Truly, I did. Obviously I failed because Mike chuckled at my face.

"Sorry," I chuckled not really meaning it. I could hold back my words with ease, but 'Choa always did say my facial expression needed prayer…

"Come on, Princess" he said still laughing.

Suddenly the nerves started to settle in. I didn't feel ready for this. Mike was easy because I had an angle. I knew every reason I shouldn't do this, every scenario of where this could go wrong. But I wanted this more than I feared it. So I squared my shoulders and swallowed my fears. I could this.

Stepping out of the car, I walked around the side of the house to the porch with Mike. A small part of me noted that if I didn't find the courage to finish the dang sex tube Mike wanted, the rickety porch would probably collapse and put me out of my misery anyway.

"Alright all the wood is here," he said gesturing to the stack of jagged planks that would have to be sanded and shaped before they could even dream of being a jacuzzi.

"Hey Probie! Ya mind sharin' your toys? I finally conned someone into making the hot tub you said was stupid."

I looked up quickly to make eye contact with my dad for the first time in forever. I could see his eyes even from the height of the roof. He glanced at me and Mike, but I just kept staring, dazed.

"She lose a bet or something?" he muttered but we still heard him, even over the waves.

"Hey I don't gamble with kids!...anymore. Just that one time. Stop bringing up old crap."

My dad just turned his head away and shook it. This was obviously daily banter for them. I was still staring barely listening anyway. I missed him so much. I wanted to build this jacuzzi on the darn roof just so I could sit with him. Tears welled in my eyes and stung. My chest constricted, my throat tightened painfully, the heat suddenly seemed overwhelming and buzzed in my ears. I miss him. I miss him so much. I couldn't even tell him yet. Mike looked over at me and seemed to see the struggle in my eyes while I stared at my father whose back was to us again.

"Hey ," he whispered to me. I looked over and saw it there, the concern, the sympathy for us both. "You'll figure something out. I can always strap him to chair and read him the file if that's easier for y'all."

He wouldn't react well to that. At all. But I appreciated Mike. He wasn't the gentle type. His methods were rough and unorthodox, sometimes borderline cruel, but he cared. He would do anything for my dad, that much was clear even behind the bravado.

I smiled a bit, fixing my features, "No that wouldn't be good. Especially if he managed to get loose. I'll manage. You're already doing so much."

"Think nothing of it. I'll keep it in my back pocket. Wouldn't be the first time I've strapped to him chair to get something through that thick skull of his. Hope it won't be the last," he said obviously enjoying getting rise out of my dad.

I laughed and thanked him. He left me to it saying he would be inside if I needed him sauntering off to find another beer. I kinda felt bad for taking him away for Cantina hour. I'd have to get him a gift card there or something after all this.

I settled on a spot on the porch that gave me a good view of my father working. He wasn't even aware that I was here, just barely noticed me. But just being around him again gave me a peace these past years had stolen. A warmth that came round being with someone you loved wholeheartedly that couldn't be described. Being around 'Choa and Amus made me feel light and put me and good spirits. But being around my dad made me feel like the a kid again. I didn't feel so aged. I felt 16. Unlike everyone else, he would never ask me to be anything other than that.

The wood was splintered, broken, and a touch rotted. I need to find what I could use and toss what I couldn't. Wouldn't be a very good jacuzzi if the water leaked. Getting everything sorted was the easy part. I had an idea of what I wanted it to look like in my head and carved some measurements into the wood. It wasn't til I had to started sawing and shaping the structure that I realized I didn't know what the flip I was doing. I look between the pieces of wood wondering how I was gonna actually put this together. Watching my dad do this and helping out was way different than flying solo and actually having to think about it. I was starting to get frustrated and thought about going to the wood store and getting some advice when a shadow casted over me. I looked up expecting to see a cloud or, worse, Mike hovering to check to see how unconvincing this all looked. I had the beginnings of what looked like a wobbly satanic circle.

Instead looking up I was suddenly faced with the set of eyes I'd know anywhere standing closer than I was prepared for. I froze wide eyed unable to speak.

He arched a scrunched brow at me, sighed and said, "Need some help there?"


	5. Kelly Gibbs

He quirked his eyebrow and looked at me expectantly when I didn't answer.

"Um yeah that-that be cool," I barely managed to stutter out. He crouched down beside me and examined the wood I had managed to make a sloppy circle out of. He silently got to work at pulling the pieces apart, letting the nail clink on the ground. Obviously I wasn't off to a great start since he had to pull everything apart just to start all over again. He worked for the next few minutes only ever acknowledging me when he needed something. Like a new piece or a nail that had managed to roll away.

I just watched him the way I always had making something out nothing and cleaning up my mess. Even though he didn't have much, it already looked like something. His skilled hands ran expertly across the wood as he forced the heavy material to bed to his will.

"Can I help with anything", I asked feeling particularly useless.

He didn't say anything. It was like he hadn't heard me. I was about to just resigned myself to the helper role when he looked up and jerked his chin over to the pile of wood on the other side of the porch. I looked over and got up to go get it. This wood was better than even my non-rotted pile. I guess he didn't mind sharing after all. I grabbed an armful and carried it over to him and set it down. He handed me the other saw and I began copying his movement and cutting away at the pieces of the new pile.

Gibbs wasn't sure why he offered to help the young girl. He could've left her to her own devices and simply allowed Mike to realize that she probably wouldn't be able to build the kind of tub he was looking for. Or any tub at all it seemed by the looks of the crooked hexagon she had going. But then he might nag Gibbs into doing it and he wasn't about to do that and the roof as well.

She didn't look unaccustomed to hard labor if the muscles in her arms and legs were any indicator. She was wearing some kind of flowy dress, but sat like man with her tongue poked out when she concentrated. Her grip and movements weren't clumsy like a newbie but the execution was so odd he would have guessed despite having skill in working with her hands, carpentry either wasn't her thing or she was just out of her league. He had to give it to her though, the kid was determined. Not once had she asked him for help even after hours of failing. Hadn't even let Mike know she didn't know what she was doing when he came out to check on it. She seemed self assured and if he wasn't able to read past it, he would have believed it himself.

He was kind of curious about her. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was the first person he had seen in months that wasn't Mike or Maria. But there was something odd about her he couldn't place. Something his damaged mind wasn't putting the pieces together on. Looking at her face he felt like he was missing something vital about her. His gut churned, screamed at him to look closer. Who was she?

"Do I have something on my face?", she asked suddenly. He snapped out of his pondering and looked her in the eye. Her eyes made his head swirl, his memory trying to remind him that he knew the innocent wide baby blues looking at him. The memory flashed so quickly he couldn't see it clearly and it unsettled him.

He grunted a quick, "No." Looking back down and continuing to work he pushed away his thoughts. His memory had played tricks on him these past few months and his gut was reacting to his fragmented mind. Or at least that's what he told himself. It was making him tired trying to strain and place the teenager in front of him.

"You obviously don't know what you're doing so how'd you get stuck doing this?" He asked roughly. It wasn't his business, but he figured he might as well know why.

"Mr. Franks is an old friend of my father's. I'm supposed to be here learning a lesson", Frost said making something up off the top of her head.

"Got into some trouble?", Gibbs asked trying not to sound too interested. He didn't know why he wanted to know.

"Something like that. Haven't really been doing anything lately that would make him proud. Got myself mixed up with the wrong crowd while he was away. Now this is my summer vacation," I mumbled while sorting through the wood planks.

"Away?"

"Yeah he's, uh, in the Corps."

"A marine assigned you to a whole summer with Mike? Yeah, you'll learn your lesson", he said smiling wryly and taking a swig of his beer. Gibbs knew Franks would work the brakes off of this kid. Being his Probie had been anything but easy. He couldn't imagine the hell he stored away for the young degenerate.

"Franks hard to please? This Jacuzzi is already driving me crazy in all this heat. I don't think it will end here either."

Gibbs shook his head knowing there was more to come, "It won't. Anyone who'd trust Franks with their kid knows that. Shoulda stayed outta trouble"

Frost knew he'd remain silent if she let him. She liked talking to him. The sound of his voice directed at her was soothing. And while she enjoyed just being around him, not saying anything, she needed to keep him talking, or at least listening to get somewhere.

"So what you being punished by your dad too?"

"What?", he asked confused at the question.

"That why you building him a whole new roof?" she asked.

The smallest shadow of a smile ticked at the side of his mouth, "No, not quite." He said shaking his head looking down at the wood that he had begun to nail away at.

"Lose a bet?," she guessed again.

"Don't gamble", he said simply. "You?"

"I used to. With my dad for things like extended bedtime hours and extra cookies before bed", Frost said actually telling the truth.

"Strong-willed, huh? "

"Yeah. Everything was up for negotiation if I could find a loophole. I wasn't the combative type, so I had to learn to talk my way outta stuff."

"Why would you need to fight?", Gibbs wondered out loud while he gathered some screws. She didn't seem like the scrawny type and was too self-assured to get pushed around.

Frost shrugged, "I lived on an army base as a kid. Seemed like army brats were the tough type just like their parents. Didn't really fit in. I liked to paint, play the piano, and day dream. I was always the shortest too. If I had worn glasses I'd be toast."

"So you got picked on?" he asked with a touch of sympathy in his voice, but not looking up from his work.

"Only by this one guy. He was bigger than me and his dad was an officer so he felt like he had his father's authority," I rolled my eyes remembering the buttwipe that was Lester Monroe. He was a pudgy, greasy haired blonde haired kid that gave me hell in grade school.

"And you talked yourself outta his line of fire?"

"No, he wasn't much of a listener. He liked to pull my pigtails, steal my cookies, and make me do his homework."

"You tell your dad?"

"No. His father was my father's Commanding Officer and I didnt want my dad to have any trouble or, worse, kicked out the Marines just because he slugged a 10 year old with a bat. I heard my mom say his CO was a real SOB once."

"So you kept it yourself?"

"Yeah, thought I could handle it. That is until he started picking on my friend, Maddie. She was getting tortured by association, that didn't seem very fair, So I…..retaliated. Or at least I tried to", I said grimacing at the memory.

He arched his eyebrow expectantly.

I bit my lip. This was years ago and still embarrassed me to this day. I never told anyone this story. "While my father was deployed, I had this big plan that I was gonna get him back. I snuck into the boy's bathroom armed with a can of my father's wood glue. I smeared the toilet seat with it knowing he'd come to the bathroom after lunch. In my 7 year old head it made sense," I shrugged feeling slightly embarrassed at the holes in my plan.

He snorted, "The principal get stuck instead or somethin' ?"

"No, I wish. When I tried to leave the stall I slipped on my shoelaces and landed face first on the seat and got my forehead stuck," I grumbled. "The janitor eventually came before Lester could get there. He could barely help me since he couldn't see past the tears in his eyes. He almost fell over too. He had to get a tool to unscrew the seat from the toilet and then I had to wait in the office for my mom to come get me. Worst part is Lester saw me walking to the office with a toilet lid on my head. Hospital staff and the whole waiting room got quite the kick out of the story. This man with a broken leg slipped me some brass knuckles when my mom wasn't looking for when I went back to school and had to face the music," Frost giggled in spite of herself. She had gotten herself into more than her fair share of trouble as a kid behind her bright ideas.

Gibbs listened to the story with rapt attention looking up as she told him. It must have been quite the experience raising such an odd little girl. He couldn't help but laugh a bit at her. All this because she wanted to protect her dad and her friend.

"This Lester give ya hell when you got back?"

"Actually, no. He told me I had spunk and left me alone. 'Course everyone else called me toilet head for the rest of the year…"

Gibbs and Frost just continued to talk for the rest of the evening. In natural Gibbs fashion he didn't talk much himself, but preferred listening to her. She has years worth of silly stories to fill up the next few days while they worked on the Jacuzzi and the roof.

Some days, they just sat quietly and worked while he showed her how to fix patches in the roof. She proved to be a proficient helper, never needing much guidance once she has been shown once. He usually hated mindless chatter but her voice, soft as the wind, drowned out the ones inside his head. He wasn't sure how or when over the course of the next few weeks the little weirdo had begun to grow on him. It was like he had known her a lifetime.

She didn't do anything specific, she was just herself. She was insightful, funny, and a bit dramatic. Her tales of trouble had been the result of her own quirkiness. But her little oddities made her endearing. They had developed a banter over past couple weeks that had started with hesitant questions that moved on to gentle teasing of his facial hair. From anyone else that wasn't Abby, he would've been annoyed. He had certainly slapped DiNozzo for less.

"You always just gettin by on the skin of your teeth aren't you?" Gibbs asked after she had told him about sneaking off the Institute grounds one night with her friends to go to a local club. They had nearly been caught coming back when Sardinha had tripped the safety wires from the inside. Luckily they made it back just in time, when she remembered how to hack the system and make it seem like the "danger" had come from outside. They lured one of the dogs near the trip wire with beef jerky to make it seem like a dog training issue. Of course, she made all this sound like she had been in high security boarding school rather than a safe house in Germany.

"Yes. Well, no. Sometimes my skin teeth fail me and I have to face the music in much more theatrical ways," she grimaced remembering one particular food she'd never be able to eat again.

"Bout time that sneakiness caught up with ya" he said chuckling under his breath.

"It didn't," she said proudly. "Sometimes you just gotta ask yourself how far you're willing to go.

"Finally work your way up to a misdemeanor, did ya Mas?"

"Only if you consider the honor code a code of law," she shrugged. "I may have been a troublemaker but I wasn't about to bring home bad grades to my dad. He was a real hardass about grades. Strict parents make sneaky children."

"Just how far did you go for these grades," He asked wondering if he really wanted know.

"Nothing serious honestly. A due date snuck up on my group project partner and I once and we were far from ready to present. I'm talking we didn't even look at the rubric form. Only found out the subject of the project when the other kids started to present. So in a stroke a genius, we decided to play sick," she said walking over to the other side of the porch to connect the pieces of the jacuzzi that had begun to take form.

"So the coward's way out," he said flatly.

"Hey now, there was nothing cowardly about what we did. It took practice and discipline," she said defensively. "We didn't just hobble off the nurse's office. That's unrealistic, you know, for us both to be sick. I consider myself a woman of action, Gibbs. A shower rather than a teller, if you will. Once it was our turn to go I begun to play weak, but of course insisted on continuing for the sake of my beloved academia. Once that title page popped up on the screen I knew then and there I had to commit," she said dramatically staring off into the distance. "I'll have you know I stuffed my mouth with a concoction of bananas, mustard, and cafetaria oatmeal and hurled all over that room. I even passed out for good measure. I think I knocked down a computer too just for dramatic effect."

"Because the blowing chunks simply wasn't theatrical enough," he chuckled despite himself. Mason was eccentric, but no one could say she wasn't driven. If only she could focus that drive to something more productive.

There was something about just here talking to her dad about the silly events of her life that made Kelly someone she hadn't been in years. Frost was was stoic, cold, and ruthless. Kelly was silly and carefree. She almost didn't recognize who she had become these past few weeks. She could feel the effects of Mr. Zetes slipping away from her day by day. These stories were all the memories she had kept stored away in hopes to tell him about later. He was either away when they occurred or she had already "died." She secretly hoped that through these tales she could jog his memory and lessen the blow of when she actually gathered the courage to tell him. Perhaps by then he would have already have his own suspicions. She even told him things that he already knew about Kelly. Things that, she noticed on a few occasions, would make him pause. She could hear the gears moving in his head that he couldn't quite make spark. The connection that weren't allowing themselves to be made. He knew she liked strawberry shortcake dolls and playing the piano as a kid and made a point to mention those things in passing. She told him vaguely that she had sent her father a tape of her playing the piano, but trailed off when she was about to mention the talent show. She was still hesitant about veering too close to the truth. She wanted to plant seeds, not throw things in his face that would make him suspicious of her.

He wasn't nearly as forthcoming about his own life but he spattered in small details. She would usually ask him about his previous career when Franks was around knowing the old man would catch the hint and jump in about Gibbs' time as a probie. He was all too happy to embarrass the retired agent. These genuinely amused her and made her laugh, but Gibb's wasn't nearly as thrilled. She couldn't imagine her father as the clumsy agent that he had once been. He and Franks bickered incessantly, in a way that Gibbs had noted, was starkly different than the way he and DiNozzo had once functioned. If anything, Franks was the silly one and Gibbs the all too serious probationary Agent.

"...got us into more than one mess mouthing off at some director of another agency," Franks recalled between the cigarette in his teeth.

"Me? 'm not the one who told the Director of the FBI his wife looked Uncle Fester."

"How was I supposed to know that was his wife?," Franks protested.

Kelly giggled at the two wishing she had been around to see them like this everyday. They bickered like an old married couple and loved each other like brothers.

"Kelly you want something out the fridge. Gotta be exhausting listening to the old grouch all day," Mike said from below them on the porch. The roof was coming along quickly with two set of hands working on it, despite taking breaks to work on Mike's tub.

"Do you even have anything that isn't beer or tequila in that fridge?," she asked knowing they had been living primarily off booze and quick meals despite the groceries Maria brought by.

" 'Course I do. Just can't cook it…" he said unashamed of how he was living. Kelly would be concerned for them if they hadn't been living this way for years. Living off take out and drinking themselves silly every night. In her whole time here, she barely saw either men eat anything that wasn't a microwave meal. Just enough to soak up the alcohol. Gibbs had been even worse. Mindlessly eating whatever grease dish Franks handed him, barely inspecting it enough to identify it as edible.

"How about I make yall something? Can't keep letting Maria's grocery shopping go to waste," she said jumping off the roof and landing effortlessly in her feet.

"Haven't had a woman cook for me in I don't know how long. Was startin' to think you weren't even a girl, Mas," Mike drawled with a satisfied smirk on his face as he settled back into the lawn chair.

"Chauvinist!", she shot back. Mike just laughed mockingly.

Walking into the outdated kitchen that managed to look worn despite the lack of use, Kelly looked around for anything that would make a good meal. The fridge was well stocked and the cupboards were packed with an array of spices and herbs. It became apparent to her that Mike didn't cook because he was lazy, he really just didn't know how. She was surprised Maria never cooked for them but seeing as her and Mike stayed at odds with each other, he was probably never on her good side long enough for that.

After a few hours Kelly had quite the spread prepared for the herself and the men outside. She had made separate dishes of steak and seafood enchiladas with a thick layer of melted cheese on top. She had even found the time to pull together an old peach spice cake recipe she had learned from her mother. She knew she went over the top with it but she wanted to make sure her dad was eating and she knew he and Mike could eat off of this for days.

She grabbed the dish towel, wound it up, and hit Mike with it. He growled in protest and in return she handed some dishes and silverware to him, ordering him to set the small table outside. He grumbled a bit about pushy women, but did what he was told.

"Gibbs! Can you come help me with the food", she yelled craning her neck trying to see him past the sun.

He didn't answer but the sounds of tools dropping and the roof rustling let her know he was coming. Once she was back inside she grabbed the deep steak enchilada and asked him to grab the seafood one along with the cake tray.

He let out a low whistle at the sight before him. "Wow, Mas. This is.." he trailed off a bit taken aback at the effort of it all. She had really outdone herself.

"Yeah well you guys have put up with me this long, might as well thank you for it," she responded truly grateful to he and Mike for allowing her to occupy so much of their time.

They walked outside together to find Mike sloppily putting the finishing touches on the table. Clearly he didn't have many expectations or didn't feel the need to try so hard just for the three of them. The neanderthal would probably eat with his hands and feet if I let him, she thought.

"Hungry, Mr. Franks?" she asked in mock politeness.

He glared at her teasing knowing he didn't like being called Mr. Franks and had only tolerated it when they didn't know each other. His glare was tempered once he saw the food she was carrying.

"Well I'll be. The kid's got some home training after all," awed at the amount of food before him.

Kelly ignored the jibe and simply set the food down in the center and instructed Gibbs to do the same.

"Eat up," she said gallantly. They certainly didn't have to be told twice. She wasn't even sure they tasted it. Just inhaled the food, side dishes and all. Neither said much but she could tell they appreciated the gesture and enjoyed the food. She was used to this. She didn't expect top level etiquette from the two former marines, knowing they only used their manners as a means to an end.

Later that night when Gibbs had headed back up to the roof, she and Mike stayed behind to clear up the dishes. Gibbs had offered to help but seeing a dark cloud on the horizon during dinner had him back on the roof at her insistence. None of them were tuned into the news so they didn't exactly know about the projected severity of the incoming cloud.

"Mas, I admit, you're makin' a lot of progress with him. Hell, yall're two roof sessions away from braiding each other's hair gossipin' 'bout American Idol, but he's no closer to knowing the truth now than he was when you first got here."

I sighed, "I know. And I don't want to waste anymore of your time if I'm not getting anywhere. I've been indulging myself. I need to have a conversation with him tonight. I have to be back DC in a month anyway and the FBI isn't gonna wait. I can't keep lying him. He deserves to know the truth about what happened to Kelly."

"What do mean what happened to Kelly?" Gibbs asked lowly suddenly appearing in the corner of the room.

Ice shot through my veins at the sound of his voice. Running back through our conversation I could see where, taken out of context, this all sounded very, very bad.

"Probie-" Mike started already seeing a storm coming that wasn't gonna be held off by a new roof.

"No Mike, what is it that you two have been whispering about down here that involves Kelly," he said temper flaring, but still confused. This was going downhill. Fast.

This wasn't Mike's battle. He had done his part, and now I needed to do mine.

I just slipped into autopilot and started to tell him the truth, "Kelly Gibbs isn't dead. Shannon is, but Kelly's survived and healed."

A silence settled over us. I kept my eyes on the floor afraid to look up. I could feel Mike shifting nervously beside me ready to intervene should Gibb's reaction take a turn for the worse. Throwing caution to the wind, I kept going. "I've been here for the past month and half, trying to find a way to tell you. Kelly wasn't in a position to return to your custody, because of...a third party interference." Now wasn't the time to go in-depth.

"You can resume a life with her if you so chose," I said feeling the air go out of my lungs, bracing for his reaction. It was still calm.

I looked up at him finally meeting his gaze. His eyes bore intensely into me digesting what I had told him.

"How?" he whispered barely moving his lips. "I..don't..believe you."

"It's tru-"

"Its not!" he screamed making me jump. The sound pinched at my ears and made my eyes well up with panic.

"Shannon and Kelly are go-" he cut his shout of indignation off and whirled around punched the wall behind him and grabbed his head as if was causing him agony.

Reflexively I reached out to go to him but Mike held me where I was with a sharp shake of his head.

Gibbs wasn't hearing and seeing her anymore just the flashes of his memories that flitted behind eyelids and tortured him with thoughts he couldn't control. His mind began to fall into place and the gaps in his memories that had eluded begun to fill too fast. And with it came the torrent of pain and suffering he had been keeping at bay. The distractions fell away and reality slammed into to him a semi on the highway.

Trying desperately to gain his footing he looked towards the brown haired girl that reminded him so much of the young girl, his girl, that he had lost all those years ago.

Bracing himself against the wall of the kitchen, trying catching his breath he grounded out in a pained, broken voice, "Why? Why would you...How would you know?"

She looked at her father in the weakest state she had ever seen him. The man who locked away his emotions and never let his hurt show, physical or otherwise. If she they didn't get past this moment she wouldn't forgive herself. But she couldn't stop now, she had to keep pushing so they could overcome this hill and emerge on the other side.

"Because I'm Kelly. I'm sorry, Dad," she said trying to hold in her tears at seeing him in pain.

He was suddenly ramrod straight and looked at her for what felt like the first time. She saw his eyes pour over her features the same way Mike's had that day in Carlos' Cantina. But unlike Mike, he didn't need a point of reference to confirm what he saw. He knew this face, slightly changed by time and puberty. She saw the sparks flash and connections meet that had been so stubborn previously, snapping together. The bits of her stories, her mannerisms, the damn cake. His body began to shake where he stood and he looked into her eyes and saw the baby that had been dropped in arms 16 years ago at Bethesda Hospital. The fog had lifted and he saw her, really saw her for the first time in weeks. His eyes watered blurring his vision

"Kels," he managed to choke out before darkness overtook him and he collapsed to the floor.


	6. Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If we're gonna heal, let it be glorious"
> 
> -Great American Philosopher and Writer, Beyonce Giselle Knowles-Carter

If it hadn't been for my reflexes moving faster than I could think, he would've sustained anther head injury he couldn't afford this soon. It all happened so quickly but so slowly. One second he was standing straight up, the next he was collapsing to the floor. I reached him just in time to catch his head while Mike cushioned the blow to his body.

"Dad! Daddy, wake up," I said trying to remain calm cradling his head in my hands and finally resting it on my lap.

"C'mon, Probie you're too heavy for this," Mike grunted while he gently slapped his chest a few times. The panic in his voice not as hidden as he would like it to be.

"Where's his room?," I asked. I needed to get him on bed and possibly call a doctor. I should have seen this coming, I thought kicking myself. I didn't have much time to linger on the past when I felt Mike start to hoist him up. I followed his lead and we carried him to the bedroom down the hall. We gently placed him on the bed and propped his head up with some pillows.

"Is there a doctor we can call?," I asked Mike hoping he knew someone that could do something.

Mike gathered the blankets from the closet and started taking my dad's shoes off "Honestly at this hour I have no idea. There's one doctor in town and I doubt he could do much. Best we let'm just sleep it off and check on through the night. Aint been sleep much anyway. Shock and exhaustion ain't a good mix for nuthin but a cheap sleeping pill" he said. "Need anymore pillows, kid? Figure you'd wanna stay here with him til he wakes up."

Mike brought me several fluffy pillows and closed the door behind him. My father dominated the full size bed looking more peaceful than I'd seen in him in weeks. He needed his rest and I wasn't sure just what had been keeping him up at night. He'd long learned to sleep on nothing and didn't sleep much even on his best days. But I guess the roof and jacuzzi had become his new boat. He worked until he physically exhausted himself and his body forced a shutdown.

There was no way I was leaving him so I just curled up in the empty spot next to him and laid my head on chest snuggling into the covers. The room was surprisingly cool and calm compared to the main rooms that were just as hot as outdoors.

Sleep evaded me all night which wasn't unusual. I was too worried to sleep. I kept checking on him through the night and he tossed and turned a bit but for the most part stayed still. Mike checked in one last time before heading to bed himself, but not before promising me to come get him if something bad happened. I promised and he quietly shut the door leaving to feel lulled by the sound of my dad's gentle breathing.

When the morning sun begun to peak out from the horizon and spill into the room, he started to stir a bit. He was an early riser and never slept past 8 o'clock. I held my breath waiting for him to realize I was there. I buried my face into his shoulder, took a breath, and slowly sat up trying not jostle him too much. His eyes fluttered and lazily looked around and he muttered, "Kels.." Suddenly, understanding dawned across his features and he eyes widened finally looking at me, "Kelly."

He called me Kelly. He was talking to me! I tried to not show the hope I felt swelling inside.

I smiled hesitantly, "Dad, I -" I choked up suddenly too emotional to speak.

"C'mere", he said gently and pulled me down to his chest and hugging me tightly with his hand behind my head and the other around my back. I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled closer. "You know me? You really believe me?" my voice was muffled in shirt but he heard me.

" 'Course I do," he breathed kissing my head. I could feel his tears spill from his face into my hair and I tried to keep my own at bay but couldn't help the few that washed down my cheeks and stained his shirt.

"I can prove it, I can-" he cut me off before I could even bring up the files with the DNA and records as proof and said, "I know my baby girl when I see her. Saw it the first day you were here. Thought I was going crazy. Again."

"Missed you, Dad."

"I missed you too Kels, so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't protect you. I should've been there for you and Mom. I should've been there to protect you to stop him," he sobbed. He looked at me and cradled my face between his hands, "I can't believe you're here. How are you are here? Where've been? What happened?"

"I came by myself. Everywhere but nowhere important. A lot has happened. But s'not about me. Are you okay? How do you feel? You fell pretty hard." I wasn't comfortable talking about myself just yet. He sat up, still holding me close.

" 'm fine Kels, stop being vague," he said in a stern voice I hadn't heard in awhile. I knew it wasn't gonna be easy. In fact, I wasn't gonna walk away from this without telling him something. He'd want to know everything and I'd be in a bigger hole later if he felt like I was lying or editing in order to protect him. "What the hell happened? The truth, all of it, " he demanded.

"Can we talk about this after breakfast? It's a long, crappy story and I'm gonna need food to get through it," I said delaying the inevitable. This day was gonna be taxing. Someone would end up crying before it was all over with. Probably me.

"Kels...," he warned me shaking his head but relenting with a sigh. I smiled and leaned forward knocking him over with a hug. "Missed you, grouchy." His body relaxed and he hugged me tighter kissing my hair and running his hand through my hair.

"Missed you more, kiddo, more than you'll ever know,"he said his voice breaking. I could feel him tearing up again. "Even if ya are tryna distract me again," he said wryly not at all fooled by my sudden hug. My stomach growling broke us up and I giggled and pulled him from bed. "You sure you're okay?," I asked biting my lip. My father wasn't super old. Not even 50 yet but it was jarring to a man of his size, confidence, and age collapse so suddenly from sustained injuries and shock. " 'm fine, sweetheart," he softly kissing my forehead and pulling me along with him to the kitchen.

Walking into the main area of the house I noticed Mike wasn't around. Sensing my curiosity dad said, "He's not up yet. Won't be for a couple hours." Guess he didn't care to wake up until happy hour, I thought.

The kitchen was surprisingly spotless and all the dishes had been cleaned up from last night. I started toward the cabinets when my dad stopped me by pulling me back gently and motioned towards the table to left for me to sit. Once I sat down and faced him he pulled out some ingredients and a mixing bowl. Still looking down at the spread of utensils and ingredients before him he asked, "Still like chocolate chip pancakes?"

I could feel a smile that threatened to break my face and only managed to squeal and nod furisouly in response. I hadn't eaten chocolate chip pancakes since I left home. They made me wanna cry. Now I was suddenly craving them. Especially my dad's special pancakes.

He laughed at me, remembering I used to do the same thing when I was kid at the mention of his famous pancakes that he swore weren't special, and definitely not as good as the ones at the diner. We sat in silence, but I could hear the questions forming in his mind he was gonna ask later. I could see it in the way his eyebrows scrunched and eyes concentrated too hard on the task at hand.

He finally finished and plated the pancakes and bacon. His pancakes were always thick, deformed, and "ugly" as he called them. But never, ever burned. They tasted like heaven with just the right amount of chocolate chips, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla. I had to stop myself from just throwing my head face forward into them like a deranged animal. Dad handed me a fork with a smirk on his face like he knew what I was thinking.

Darn fork didn't stop me from inhaling those suckers though. God, I missed these. Dad would always make them for me every saturday morning he was home while my mom ran errands in the morning. It was our thing and gave us time to talk alone about anything and everything. One year he came back from deployment early in the morning and the smell of of chocolate and cinnamon pancakes woke me and I jumped out of bed, running down the stairs to still find him exhausted in his fatigues making me pancakes. I spoke out loud asking him if he remembered that morning. He rolled his eyes trying to look exasperated at the memory but failing when the wide grin overtook his face and said, "Of course. Ya nearly gave us both third degree burns bowling into me. Strongest 6 year old I knew." I laughed recalling sliding around in the mix I spilled when I tackled him that morning.

I finished faster than I wanted and didn't even have room for seconds. I felt like I had eaten a stack of pillows. I needed another nap to sleep these off.

"C'mon kiddo," he said standing up. I put my dishes in the sink and followed him outback. He walked towards the beach to the side of the deck where a small boat was nestled upside down into the sand. "This one looks different than your other ones," I said politely noticing the difference in craftsmanship from what I remembered of his previous boats. He shrugged "Not one of mine."

"You didn't make this?"

" 'Course not. I'd never make junk like this," he said pulling it out of the sand and pushing it towards the water. I laughed. I didn't want to be rude initially, but this boat was rather poorly made. No doubt it would get you from A to B, but obviously functionality had been the only requirement.

"We going sailing?" I had always wanted to go with him on one of the boats he made. "Bugged me to death about when ya were a kid. Might as well make good on my promise," he said. I giggled and grabbed the oars from the sand. The boat was large enough for two but would require some serious arm work from the person rowing.

He waited for me to return with the oars and helped me inside the boat. He pushed us off from the sand and jumped in with me. Paddling with ease he followed the gentle flow of the waves. The sky above us was so blue today I couldn't quite name the color. The sun was warm but not stifling as it had been. Probably because it was so early. We were far enough out to see the wide expanse of coast and just continued to float around the line, not passing the buoy that warned us of the drop off.

"Alright, Kels, no more stalling. Tell me." I hesitated and he noticed. "I can handle it. The worst is over."

I took a deep breath and started from the beginning and told him everything up until this point. I was a lot more specific than I had been with Mike, obviously and even told him the details of certain cases. I couldn't stop myself from divulging the worst part of the things I had done. He needed to know fully what I had become so it wouldn't be a surprise later. All the cases and people that haunted me at night and sat upon my conscious during the day. I couldn't stop myself from tearing up. My emotions had the tendency to get away from me when I was with my dad. I was scared he wouldn't accept me, scared he think I was some sort of animal. I could feel myself losing control and talking faster, choking on my tears and words as they poured from my heart. He didn't interrupt but I could see him taking the journey with me. His emotions went from angry to sad to helplessness and always reverted back to anger. He lashed out and punched the side of the boat as I describe the fear and pain I felt. I didn't know where it was directed so I kept my eyes on the gentle waves that licked the side of the misshapen boat. I could see the anguish in his face as I recounted the tales not being able to help myself from editing out things like torture, but the insinuation was there. He could read between the lines.

When it was over I just sat there, chest heaving with my eyes so filled with tears that everything was one massive blob of color.

"That all of it?" he finally said flatly. He voice warned me, again, that I'd better not be holding anymore information in. I had been so specific, I had probably answered his questions.

I nodded my head silently. My hands shook now that everything was out. It hung and the air now and I prayed it wouldn't keep us apart. All the people I had killed, the illegal things I had done, the people I had betrayed. Even if betrayal was a gray area for spies, since was such an integral part of their line of work, it still ate at me to admit to one of the most loyal people I knew that, for many people, I couldn't be trusted. I wasn't necessarily ashamed of the things I had done, not all of it at least. Like 'Choa mentioned, much of what we did was in the name of justice. In a way I had made peace with it, but everything was easier to swallow when you were your own judge.

"If you wanna know anything else, just ask," I choked out barely able to catch my breath after everything I had said. I had never recounted everything before, much less in such detail.

"You're pulling 're nervous, sweetheart? Am I the only that knows?"

Of course he had noticed me unconsciously pulling away from him to protect myself from his reaction.

"The whole story? Yeah pretty much. You're the only person I felt like I had to explain myself too", I said tearfully not able to quell the sound of it in my voice.

"Saying that like you've done something wrong," he said lowly.

I looked at him incredulously. Had he not heard me? Reading my thoughts he continued, "Didn't choose this for yourself, Kels. 'm not gonna see any differently than I did before. Your actions, your accomplishments, or failures aren't why I love you. Never have been, never will be. Love you because you're my daughter and there isn't anything you can do to make that lessen."

I blinked tearfully at him still afraid to be vulnerable, "But you were so mad just now…"

"Not mad at you. Mad at this Zetes bastard, at this Anderson person, and myself because I had I known that you were out there suffering at the hands of some maniac I would have turned the earth over lookin for ya. 'M so sorry I gave up, I didn't know. You have to know that I would have searched the world to- " His voice broke off and his body shook, emotions wracking his frame as if he were trying to stay upright at the force if it all. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the side of the boat. I could see him blaming himself for the years he remained in the dark about my life. He couldn't do this. He couldn't shoulder this guilt. "Can you ever forgive me for not being there for you. I can't imagine...I let him get to you-" I didn't let him finish. I jumped at him into arms and wrapped my arms around neck. I knew he would have protected and saved me if he had known. In all my years with Zetes, I found ways to check on him and probably could've have reached out to him for help, but I was too scared. Zetes would hurt him if he found out. I had long made him believe that I couldn't remember my family before him and was committed to the Institute. I had verbally abandoned my father to keep him safe and out of Zetes' line of interest.

"It's not your fault, Daddy. I knew everyday that if you knew, you would've come for me. I wanted to go but I didn't see a way out without you getting hurt too. It wasn't worth it. I promise I'm fine now. I'm okay. Zetes is gone and there's nothing to worry about. You can't hold on to this, I kept it from you on purpose. I made sure you didn't know. He would've hurt you. Knowing you were safe was all I had, I couldn't jeopardise your life."

He held me close as tight as he could with one hand behind my head and the other wrapped tightly around my waist. He moved us effortlessly to the center of the boat sitting cross legged in the open space between the two benchs on either side. He sat and rocked me for a bit before whispering, "Don't you ever keep anything from me again. I don't care what it costs me, you tell me if you're in trouble and I'll come get you. I'll have your behind if you ever keep something like this from me again you understand me?"

"Okay," I sobbed finally letting the tears flow freely. Once they started I simply couldn't stop them. The weight of these years finally hit me. The box I had kept everything locked away in finally bursted at the seams from the overload over the years. I hated Zetes, Anderson, the people sworn to protect that had let me down because I wasn't human to them anymore, just an asset. A weapon. I wasn't a weapon, I wasn't infallible. Damn, these years had hurt. Air escaped and I struggled to catch it again as sobs tore through me. Everything felt so heavy, so suffocating. All the scars opened all at once, the stitches that I had hurriedly patched trying to pull myself together after years of abuse and fear popped and my god, it burned.

But here under the sun, in a boat, in the middle of the ocean, I could feel myself coming together again. I had been a jigsaw of broken, open wounds that hadn't healed and thus, didn't mesh together. But now that I had stopped trying to stop hold them together again they could fall and heal naturally. My father rubbed circles on my back and hushed my tears. I didn't let many people close, and never initiated contact with anyone. Hugs weren't a common occurrence for me, usually forced on me by Choa. As a result, I didn't receive much affection. But here in the arms of the only person I knew would love me unconditionally, I realized how much I had missed it. Missed burying my face into his shoulder when the world seemed to big, too harsh to face. Just relishing it, brought on a fresh wave of tears. "Missed you, Daddy," I sobbed into his chest holding him impossibly tighter. " 'm right here, Kels. Not going anywhere. Not gonna let anyone hurt you again," he promised.

I'm not sure how long we stayed in the boat just holding each other together. I planned on making this about him, helping him. But somehow, like always, he'd managed to get me to open up instead. But thinking back to his problems I could see how this may have been what he needed too. A break from his job, yes, but I'd like to think my return would prove to be a source of happiness for him if he could ever move past what had separated us. I wanted him to go back to work someday. Mexico was him denying himself of where he really belonged. I had a feeling he wouldn't be able to run from it much longer though. Something would bring him back.

We finally pulled away and decided to head inside knowing Mike would be wondering where we were. Besides the sun was getting higher in the sky and soon the lack of sunscreen would come back to bite us.

We didn't say much on the way back but there was a peace there that didn't need words. As the boat his shallow water we hopped out and pulled it a few feet ashore leaving it on the coast just out of reach of the tide. Stumbling through the sand I wondered what time it was and if Mike had left for happy hour yet.

I could see from the back window that Mike sitting at the table, eating the leftover pancakes we hadn't eaten.

"Never struck mike for the chocolate chip pancake type", I mused. My voice still a little scratchy from crying.

Dad rolled his eyes, "Mike'll eat anything before drownin 'imself at happy hour."

I giggled at them stepping through the sliding glass door. Mike looked up at us cautiously before sensing we were okay.

"Nice to see you on your feet again, Probie," Mike quipped. I smiled. Their little banter never ended. Dad ignored him and headed for the fridge to grab a beer.

"I take it everything is settled?" Mike asked me. I smiled at him, "Yeah Dad and I are all good. He knows everything now."

Mike suddenly looked serious and looked at my dad, "Probie about the crime scene. It was my case, whatever happened-" Dad cut him off, "Not your fault Mike. I know you wouldn't have caught on had there been any signs. Can't catch 'em all," Dad said diplomatically. He knew Mike might think he blamed him for what happened but I don't think that ever crossed his mind. He knew Mike and how good he was. It's just that sometimes, they're better.

They shared a look and dropped the issue. "Well, this all gettin to me now," he said all fake emotionally. "Probie's happy and well now. It's all come full circle."

"Getting soft in your old age, ?" I teased. He glared at me and threw a stray chocolate chip at my head. "Ow!"

"All this calls for a celebration. Want a drink kid? Ever had real tequila?," Mike said standing up and walking toward the cabinets.

"No alcohol, Mike. She's 16," Dad said walking back over to sitting area couch. I joined him. "C'mon Dad, that legal here," I couldn't help teasing a bit. I didn't even like alcohol. He arched an eyebrow at me, "Not a chance." I laughed at him. I had assassinated rogue leaders, but god forbid I drank. I went to the kitchen and made myself a smoothie with some of the fruit lying around. I loved smoothies and hadn't had a fresh one in awhile. Mike leaned over the counter and whispered, "Wanna a little kick in that slushie of yers,kid?," he asked shaking the tequila bottle a bit.

"Mike!," Dad shouted from the other room. I shook my head in amazement. Even with all that hair growing all over his face and in his ears like bill goat, his hearing was still as sharp as ever.

He rolled eyes and headed towards my dad in the living room, "Loosen up, Probie, Uncle Mike aint gonna let nuthin happen. Kids these days join the war but cant even drink til 21…" his voice trailed into the other room and muffled by walls. I giggled to myself as Mike continued to debate what my father viewed as a closed argument.

I finished my drink and poured a big glass before following them. They bickered most of the afternoon and evening and cut the game on. Mike nagged my Dad without much response other than the occasional barb that fired him up again. I rested on my father's otherside and relaxed the rest of the evening tucked under his arm.

In the coming months, I knew I'd face more danger. I'd face more monsters, the worst the criminal world had to offer in fact. But as long as I had somewhere to call home, and my father there to get me through my worst days, I wasn't afraid. Here in this small house I finally felt I belonged somewhere.


	7. Shalom

“I didn't break it! It wasn't cooperating, so I asked it to nicely,” Kelly insisted sitting beside Gibbs who was currently trying fix her broken AC. 

 

“By kicking into submission” He stated flatly not looking up from the damaged internal piping. “Big fan of torture are ya, Kels?”

 

“No. Not a fan. Torture isn't nearly as effective as it looks in the movies unless you're a sadist,” she a bit defensively. 

 

“Might have to reconsider your morals, you did quite a number on the filter here. Could’ve came and got me earlier instead of making it suffer.” 

 

“Well look--you want a smoothie? I have fresh fruit.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Standing up she headed to the kitchen and set to work pulling the drinks together. The local market in town was fully stocked with loads of fruit to make the smoothies she was obsessed with. Mamey, mangoes, strawberries, bananas, everything that it took to make her happy in this cold world. She had made Mike and her father some with all the excess fruit she bought and they liked them well enough. It took a lot of fruit to cover all the protein and extra vitamins she laced her father’s drink with and Mike kept spiking his claiming he like he needed a little extra “stank” to make it digestible. They lived like pirates. 

 

Once the smoothies were ready, she padded back towards the back window of the living room and sat back down handing her dad his smoothie.

 

“Manage to revive it?”

 

“Just barely. Gonna need a part for the long term. You’ll be fine for the night though.”

 

“Yay, thanks, Papa Bear,” she cheered laying her head on his shoulder sipping from her drink.

 

He simply kissed her hair in response and packed his tools back away. 

 

The knock her door startled her a bit. She made eye contact with her dad and silently conveyed that she wasn't expecting anyone. She got up and headed for the door and saw Maria through the window. 

 

“Hola Maria. Que paso?,” she asked opening it. Maria had never been here so Mike must’ve have told her where she lived. 

 

“Hola Kelly. Señor Gibbs esta aqui?” Kelly nodded and led her inside where Gibbs was sitting in the living room. 

 

“Señor Gibbs, phone call. She sounds muy upset,” she said handing the phone to Gibbs. He took it and answered, his easy expression immediately shifting. Kelly left the room to give him some privacy and offered Maria a smoothie. 

About 10 minutes later, Gibbs walked back in to find Kelly and Maria conversely passionately in spanish over half drunken smoothies. Kelly noticed him during a pause in the conversation and arched an eyebrow. “Gotta head to Washington on the flight,” he stated lowly. 

 

“Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah some trouble with an agent. Got herself into a little trouble.”

 

Gibbs could tell she could see through the vague explanation but didn’t elaborate and she didn’t ask. He handed Maria her cellphone, thanked her,and watched her leave.   
Kelly knew this would happen. Something would call him back, but it didn’t feel like enough to keep him there judging by the set of his jaw. He was trying to make this an in and out visit. She also knew he wasn’t gonna let her help. He picked up his bag and smoothie. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Kels.”

 

“Ziva’s good person. She’s being framed. I hope you can clear her.” 

 

Gibbs paused and looked up at her. She continued, “I was having tea with Amus over phone this morning. He told me a cafe in Georgetowne exploded. Three people died, and Ziva is a...person of interest. FBI’s Most Wanted list.” 

 

He nodded. “I’m sorry I have leave so soon. I have to go help her.” 

 

“Don't be. I know you do. I’d think less of you if you didn’t go. Let me know if I can..help.” 

 

He smirked, shook his head at her, and kissed the slit down her eyebrow, a new habit of his. His way of telling her he wasn’t gonna risk her life. 

 

“Ya can come with me to the airport though. Need someone to drive Mike’s truck back.” 

 

Kelly couldn’t drive, not really, but Mike couldn’t drive him at this time. Siesta had done a number on him. Not that he wouldn’t try anyway. 

 

“Okie dokie,” she agreed and followed him outside and into Mike beat up pickup truck. 

 

Mike’s truck had to be from the eighties, though the condition made it look like something from the fifties. She was surprised each time the thing even cranked. She drove slowly and easily since the roads were so empty in town. All she had to do was keep pushing the pedals. Couldn’t be too hard right? The problem came when she had to get on the highway with other cars.

 

“Do me favour when you get back?”  
Gibbs turned to her confused and nodded. He wouldn’t deny her much.  
Pulling onto the highway she looked over at him and smiled, “Teach me how drive when you get back?” His eyes widened as she floored the gas to catch up with an opening and merge into busy traffic. 

 

“Jesus, Kelly! Slow down.”  
“Why? With all these cars going 80 out here?”   
“Wouldn't have asked ya to drive if I knew ya didn’t have a license,” he barked through gritted teeth.  
“You don’t need a license to drive, you need a license if you get caught driving.” 

 

Gibbs should’ve known she couldn't drive since she had been riding a scooter around town since she got here. But most 16 year olds at least had a permit for before 9 o’clock driving. There weren’t any side lines on the highway so he couldn’t even ask her to pull over. All he could do was hang on and pray.

 

“For God sake use your mirrors, Kelly.”

 

“How am I supposed to use all three at once?,” Kelly argued genuinely confused. 

 

Gibbs looked at her and thought he was gonna have a coronary right there. The car swerved just nearly missing an 18 wheeler, “Whoops.”

 

“How’d ya manage to get to this point without driving lessons, Kel?”  
She shrugged, “It wasn’t hard. Whenever you get behind the wheel of car on a mission, driving like Ms. Daisy ain't exactly the method you wanna go with. It’s never been a problem til now.”

 

He scoffed and shook his head.   
She glared him, “You know you're one to talk, from what I hear you're not exactly getting any awards for road safety any time, Agent Gibbs.” 

 

“Eyes on the road!,” He yelled as she just barely missed seeing the signal for a car switching lanes in front of her. The airport exit was upcoming and she was in the wrong lane to get off. She looked at Gibbs and he looked at her. “Kels..” he warned.   
“You might wanna hang on,” she smiled serenely.

 

Gibbs grabbed the handle on the hood as she crossed four lanes of traffic almost straight across. He just closed his eyes and prayed she’d at least survive this if he didn’t due the heart attack he could feel brewing in his chest. By the time he opened his eyes they were pulling into the airport drop off lane. 

 

“You know this car isn’t as clunky as it looks. Great speed and handling on it,” she said cheerily. Gibbs didn’t answer her. Instead he took out the phone she lent him and called Mike. 

 

“Hey Mike, need you to grab a cab and come pick up your car from the airport….No nothing is wrong with it. I’m sure Kelly’d love to explain why when you see her.” He snapped the phone shut and ignored Kelly’s protests. No way in hell he was letting drive back. 

 

He got out the car and walked over to her side. Leaning his arms on the window he said lowly,“Wait for Mike to come get you.” 

 

She pouted, “It wasn’t that bad.” 

 

Gibbs leaned in to kiss her eyebrow and rubbed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He whispered, “Stay out of trouble and stay with Mike while I’m gone. I’ll call you when I land. Love you, babygirl.”

 

“Love you too, Daddy.” He half-smiled at her and took his ticket and passport from her. Kissing her hair one last time, he took off and headed for his flight. 

 

Kelly watched him go and pulled into a parking space next to the drop off area. Kelly waited obediently for Mike to show up. 

 

Twenty minutes later a small yellow cab pulled up and Kelly got out of the truck to meet Mike. She pulled a few pesos out of her front jeans pocket to pay the driver. 

 

“Kelly, what you do this time?” He said as soon as he got out of the car.   
“Nothing he’s just being all twisty since he has to head back. Doesn’t want me driving alone when its about to get dark.” If Mike knew about the highway incident she’d never hear the end of it. 

 

“Can’t blame ‘im. The police around here are funny at night unless you're holding a few hundred pesos to buy your way out a ticket,” he said catching the keys Kelly tossed him. 

 

Kelly and Mike headed back together and argued about the probability of Gibbs returning to work. Mike said being there would only drive him back here faster, and she didn’t disagree. He wasn’t motivated enough yet. But Kelly bet him that if he was called in again for the right case, under the correct circumstances, he’d crack. 

 

“Yeah, right. If anything being back twice would make him disconnect his Maria’s phone.”

 

“Fine. I bet you a year’s worth of drinks at Carlo’s Cantina that if Dad gets called in one more time, he’ll be staying for good.” 

 

“Oooh, but are you good for it, Kelly Belly? Uncle Mike would hate to drink away all your allowance money.” 

 

“Yes Mikey, I am. And if I’m right, I’m taking that fancy teak jacuzzi back to Washington with me.”

 

“Gonna fill up Daddy’s backyard with a buncha pubescent boys? I’d buy tickets to that fallout. No wonder he has me on babysitting duty.” 

 

Kelly laughed at the thought her father pulling up seeing a bunch of half-naked boys in his yard. He’d spontaneously combust or starting shooting. No in-between.

 

“I got fresh pack of cards from the airports. Feel like losing your pension check?”

 

One week later 

 

By the time Gibbs had wrapped thing up with the FBI and cleared Ziva, Kelly had already swindled Mike out of everything but the shirt on his back.   
“I’m out,” Mike sighed frustrated that she managed a full house for the fourth time.   
“Don’t feel too bad Uncle Mikey. At your age--”  
“Finish that sentence and I’ll shoot you like I should have 3 hands ago,” he growled and went in search for another beer. Kelly laughed at him and gathered her chips. 

 

She had liked hanging out with Mike this past week. He was a sore loser, but that’s what made it so fun. Over dinner and cards they swapped stories of botched missions and compared battle scars. He had upped her shoulder wound with a bullet to the knee he took in Germany in the 80s. They laughed about old partners and stakeout sessions that had them ready to start howling at the moon. She didn’t talk about this stuff with her father, not wanting to sound flippant. But with Mike everything was much lighter and anything was fair game. 

 

Gibbs walked through the door rather abruptly with bloodshot eyes looking like he hadn’t slept in days. The case had really worn him out and he had been more worried about Ziva than he’d like to admit at the time. 

 

“Daddy!” Kelly hopped up and ran towards Gibbs smacking into him full speed. He grunted but returned the hugs just as tightly sighing contently, laying small kisses on her forehead. The smell of her shampoo and oils calmed his worries that she’d been in danger of some kind. She’d been perfectly safe here with Mike and he knew she could take care of herself, but he couldn’t help but worry about her. He always would. After this past week of dodging the FBI and dealing with uncomfortable confrontations with old friends, he was glad to be back with someone he wouldn't have to let down again. He looked over her shoulder and silently thanked Mike for watching her while her was gone. 

 

“Glad you both haven’t killed each other.” 

 

Kelly giggled, “Well Mike was gonna about 3 minutes ago. He doesn’t like to lose.”

 

“Mike doesn't like to lose,” Mike mocked bitterly in a girlish voice. “Bullshit, caught her counting cards when were down at the Cantina. They lay crooks across the coals for stuff like that.” 

 

“I won my prizes fair and square, Uncle Mikey.”

 

“Lose ya shirt did ya, Mike?” Gibbs quipped stepping into the living room with one arm still around Kelly. 

 

“Everything but! She let me keep my shoes, but won the laces off me.”

 

Kelly smiled innocently at Gibbs and ignored Mike’s whining, “Everything all cleared up?”

 

Gibbs smirked at her, “Like you don’t already know.” 

 

“Touche. Glad everything worked out. Hungry? I’m making Chiles en nogada. Maria gave me the recipe to try.”

 

“Starving, thank you.” Gibbs settled in the living room with Mike with a beer finally letting go of the stress of the case. Being back gave him feelings of longing that he hadn’t expected. He kept telling himself Mexico was where he belonged. He felt relaxed here and his demons were solidly back in Washington where they belonged. Ever since Kelly had returned, he felt more at home here than he did in that empty house. He even put the house on the market to release his connections to DC once and for all. 

 

He was determined to make a life here in Mexico. He wasn’t going back to NCIS. He’d be able to actually enjoy his time with Kelly. He liked being able to talk and play with his daughter everyday. Having her show up had shocked him to all hell but it had given his life meaning again. Grounded him to the earth in a way he hadn’t been before. He had a reason to get up every morning, he didn’t need to drink himself to sleep anymore. She wasn’t an adult yet so that made him feel like he had a few years before he lost her again. He could spend all his time with her uninterrupted. 

 

At least that’s what he thought. Until came back to Washington to pack the house and Tobias came by. When he told Kelly on the phone that he wouldn’t be back for a few days because of it, she mumbled something to Mike about taking his jacuzzi home. They always wagered together so he didn’t think much of it.

 

For some reason, he was the only one who could help. Again. He was starting to think no one would allow him the quiet life he so desperately wanted with his daughter. The case had drained him more than the last and thrilled him in a way he’d been trying to squash as he sat in the basement looking through old photos of Kelly and her mom. A pang hit his chest looking at his first wife with his daughter. He had gotten one of them back, he thought. He couldn’t ask for more. He couldn’t ask for them both back. No matter how much he wanted it. Losing his wife had made him unsuitable for anyone else. As many of his wives had told him, he’d always love Shannon and her memory more than them. But, god, losing his daughter had been what had driven him near the brink of insanity. He tried to fool himself with a parade of redheads who weren't his wife, but never had he ever tried to be a father again. Didn't feel like he deserved it. Not after he failed Kelly. 

 

When Jen appeared and tore him a new one about his job, it snapped his resolve. He wanted his job back. But he had his girl to consider now. Would she want to come back? She seemed to enjoy Mexico and living with Mike. Her friend Cho-something lived there and she had left town more than once to see him. Would she be willing to give that up? He wasn’t leaving her in another country. That wasn’t an option. If she wanted to move to England, he learn to like tea and rainy days. They wouldn't be separated again. 

 

He called her that night from the basement running his hands over the boat he’d left behind. Wasn’t worth the shipping cost at the time. 

 

“Hola, Papa!”  
Gibbs smiled to himself at her cheery greeting, not yet over being able to hear her voice again whenever he missed her. 

 

“Hey, Kels, you okay? You and Mike behaving?” 

 

“I’m fine! I just ate and made another smoothie. Mike let me answer the phone even after he won it off it me so I guess he’s being nice.”

 

Gibbs rolled his eyes at their antics. They bickered constantly over any and everything and were always challenging each other in some card game or other.   
“Listen, Kels, I wanted to run something by you. What would you think of living in DC again?”

 

“Permanently?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“God, finally.”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask?”

 

“Wait. You wanted to move to DC?

 

“I want you to take your old job back. It’s where you belong.”

 

“Never said anything about NCIS.” 

 

“But that’s why you’re staying.”

 

“It might be..” He trailed off grudgingly.

 

“It is.” 

 

“Would you okay moving back in with your old man again?” 

 

She paused. “You want me to move in with you? In the old house?”

 

“Of course. Unless you have some friends you’d rather stay with?” Gibbs trailed trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He had gotten used to her being around and nothing made him happier than the idea having her here with him again. But if she wanted her own space, he’d give her that. Maybe she’d been away too long to want to live her father again...

 

“Can I paint my room?,” She asked hopefully. She remembered the Pepto Bismol pink her room had once been and while she loved it at the time, she had changed since.

 

Relief washed over Gibbs as he let his fears melt away and couldn't help the laugh that followed, “Sweetheart, I’ll paint the whole thing pitch black if that’s what you’re into now.” 

 

“While I do enjoy the gentle embrace of darkness, I’m actually more into turquoise these day.”

 

“I’ll have the swatches before you land. Gonna need my things from down there. Would ya mind--” 

 

“Dad, I’ve literally been packing as you’ve been talking. You didn’t bring much so I’m already done. Mike is booking me a flight now, and I’m on my way to pay the accumulated tab on my cottage. Need anything else from down, here?” 

 

Gibbs smiled at her efficiency, “No that’s everything. Tell Mike I said thanks for everything and be safe on your way down here. Call me when you know your landing time so I can come get you.” 

 

“Aye eye, Gunny. Over and out.” 

Kelly quickly hung up the phone and did a happy dance outside her landlord’s house. She knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. 

 

Her landlord was a nice, shorter lady with long hair and a sweet smile. Sometimes she would come by with bread baskets and fruit of what she didn't sell at the market. Kelly would miss her and the landlady was genuinely sorry to see her go. She always paid her rent on time and made conversation whenever they saw each other. She kept the cottage in impeccable condition and had even fixed the air conditioner without reducing the repair costs from the rent. 

 

Kelly handed her the keys and hugged her goodbye with promises to visit and recommend her to friends. 

 

Kelly headed back to Mike's and hugged the grouchy man goodbye. She would miss him. He was surly but he had helped her when he could have easily dismissed her. She’d never forget that. 

 

Ochoa pulled up outside of Mike's house and honked the horn. She kissed Mike’s cheek and headed out. “Thanks again, Uncle Mike”, she called over her shoulder.. He had become family over these past couple months. She suddenly wished he didn’t live so far away. He waved from the porch and watched her go. 

#######

Choa drove Kelly to the same airport she had dropped her father off at. 

 

He stopped in front and helped her unload her things from the trunk. 

 

“Guess this is goodbye again, Cho.” 

 

“Never goodbye, just until next time, Captain.” 

 

“Choa about everything, thank you I don't know what I would've done. I--" 

 

“I love you more, babe. Don't think twice about it. I'm gonna miss you buddy.” 

 

She was getting so soft lately. She hates goodbyes. She looked at him teary eyed and realized how much she really loved her friend. She wasn't used to being without him. They were never more than a stone's throw away from each other for more than a few days. That wouldn't be the case anymore. So for the first time in their friendship, she jumped forward and hugged him as tight as she could. 

 

“I love you. I'll miss you. How am to supposed to live without you?” 

 

He enveloped her in his famous bear hugs and whispered lovingly, “You're not. Don't melt on me now, Slushie. Phones and FaceTime are a thing. So are planes and trains. You're always welcome. Mama likes you more anyway.” 

 

She laughed and pull away just enough to look in his warm brown eyes, “If you don't stay in touch, I'm telling your mom how you treat me.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, “Don't even get that woman started.” 

 

She giggled, pulled away, and grabbed her things. “I'll see you when I see you Cho.” 

 

“Call me when you get back. I expect weekly updates on my new favorite government snitch.” 

 

“Shutup.” 

 

“Run off and catch your flight, babes. Tell your dad I said hey.” 

 

Kelly hugged and kissed once more and ran off before she missed her plane. 

 

============================================================  
6 hours later she knew why they called it the Redeye. The fastest available flight didn’t have first class so she rode the whole way there with a some guy basically sleeping in her lap and a toddler kicking the back of her seat. TSA had tried the last nerve she managed to preserve during the flight and if one more person bumped into her, so help her god, she’d open fire in this airport with the gun she smuggled out the country. It was 2:30am and she prayed her father would be here soon as she exited the deboarding area and walked towards the door dodging the greeters waiting for other passengers. 

 

In the distance she spotted a silver-haired man staring at her. She stopped and stared back. After a moment or so he smirked and approached her. 

 

“Thought you wanted me to shave, Kels,” he said handing her smoothie. 

 

“Daddyyy,” she drawled sleepily and waddled into his arms taking the smoothies and sipping it gratefully with her head laid on his chest. She could feel her mind pulling her away from mass murder back to almost normal. He smelled like sawdust again. He kissed her hair gently and took bags from her. Leading her to the Charger parked out front he asked, “Enjoy that smooth, luxury flight back? Coffee’s top of the line too.”

 

She glared at him. The coffee tasted like bitter water that been left to stagnate and he knew that flight was nothing short of rougher than a bumper car ride because of all the turbulence. He smirked at her, “That good, huh? Hate I missed out on round two.” 

 

He loaded up the Charger while she pouted in the front with her drink. He smirked knowing the ride back would worsen her mood. The Charger wasn’t a smooth ride by any means. 

 

After a good 30 minute ride, Kelly was ready to snap. Her father had thankfully drove cautiously for her sake, but she had almost spilled her smoothie twice and her stomach was doing so many turns she couldn’t even finish it. Stepping out the Charger, she looked up at the house and her the memories started flooding back. The years had passed, but the house remained the same. It was older, but still the same and well taken care of. She stared up at the window to her room and remembered looking out it on rainy days when it was too wet to play. Back then her parents would put on movies and bake cookies with her. Between her eating half the cookie dough and her father eating the cookies right off the sheet, her mom used to complain that they never left her any. The front yard that used to be littered with her toys, was now impeccable devoid any life. The driveway that was once a mural of stick figures and “Maddie + Kelly” markings, looked power washed. 

 

She could tell other people, other women, had been here and left there own marks if the painted over chips and nicks in the window sill and porch were any indication. Like scars that were healed, but still present. The house looked like a shell of what it used to be. It was just a house now. The resounding sense of loneliness made her take a step back and a wave sympathy made her chest tighten just thinking about lonely her father must have been. How did he come back here everyday knowing she and her Mom were gone? She suddenly hated herself for not finding her way back to him sooner. He had needed her and she was trapped doing some maniac’s bidding across an ocean. 

 

Gibbs caught Kelly looking up at the house when he walked up behind her and could see from posture that she was either blaming herself, or feeling sorry for him.   
“Kels, you okay?” His voice seemed to startle her and turned and looked at him masking her tears. 

 

“Yeah, just weird to finally be home is all..”

 

“C’mon, lets get you inside before the mosquitoes eat you up.” 

 

They walked on the porch together and Gibbs pushed the door open letting her in first and, for the first time in what felt like forever, he locked it behind himself. He had even bought new locks ones. 

 

Kelly stood in the middle of the living room surprised to find it emptier than the outside of the house. There was one couch, no rug, and an old tv set up against the wall. The kitchen table was foldable with two chairs, and from here she could see the kitchen was almost completely bare. She knew already what he would never actually tell her. This was all that was left after 3 divorces. The fresh wave of sympathy was washed away by the boiling rage she felt for these women who had reduced his living conditions

 

Gibbs stood behind her and sighed. He knew she wasn’t gonna like what she saw. Diane had replaced the furniture Kelly remembered as a kid with something she had deemed more “modern” while he was at work one day. He’d been furious but the damage was done and the furniture had been donated. She had packed his more personal things away and replaced everything else. She took it all with when she left though, and he used some old furniture from storage to take up space. 

 

He didn't want her to feel bad for him. He never used this room anyway and it wasn’t like he couldn’t have added more to it, he just never saw a need.

 

“Basement hasn’t changed. Your room was packed up, but everything is in the attic. Was gonna buy you a new bedroom set, but figured I’d let you do that.” 

 

She didn’t answer him. Just kept staring at what was left. She turned and buried her face into his chest trying to hold back her screams. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, Papa.” 

 

“You would’ve if you could’ve.”

 

“Yes.” 

 

He held her face with his hands kissing her nose, cheeks, and eyes, “Hey, don’t. Okay? Stop blaming yourself.” 

 

She bit her lip and nodded,“Kay.”

 

Gibbs took her upstairs and showed her where the towels and washcloths were. Where they always were. He told her to wash the trip off and join him in the basement when she was done. He knew she’d need a few hours of work to shake off that jetlag that would make her sleepy and cranky, but not tired enough to actually sleep. 

 

He headed back downstairs and grabbed her bags to place them in his room. She’d stay in his room until they could decorate hers, or at least put in a bed in it. Whatever she preferred. 

 

They could go shopping later and grab her things from the safe house outside of town tomorrow. 

 

He’s been telling the truth about the basement, Kelly thought once she had made her way back downstairs. It looked the exact same way it had before she left and that offered a sense of home the rest of the house hadn’t. It seemed he’d been adamant about this space. 

 

Gibbs looked up from sanding the boat to find her at the top of the stairs in the green USMC shirt that had always been her favorite and smiled at her. As she descended the stairs with her beloved drink of choice, he tossed her a fresh sanding block that she caught easily with her other hand and set to work. They worked together silently through the night until about 4am. Since it was Friday, Gibbs and Kelly had one last weekend before his schedule set in. 

 

“Got anything to keep you busy during the weekday, Kels?” 

 

Kelly looked at him confused. Had she not told him? Running back through their boat conversation she could’ve sworn she had. She thought his memory might be still fuzzy on him. Then she realizes she told him she got a job, just not the nature of it. 

 

“Uh yeah. Thought I told you. Amus set me up with an FBI job. I have to go see the supervisor Monday about it.” 

 

Gibbs took a sip from his mason jar of bourbon, “What like an internship?”

 

She paused and then whispered, “Nope. The real thing.” 

 

Gibbs’ face screwed up like he didn't want to believe her,“You're going to be a gun carrying FBI agent? Like with a badge.”

 

“Yep. I mean, technically I won't work every case the team gets to limit my hours since I’m still a minor but yeah. I’ll be in and out of town a bit according to Amus.” 

 

“What department, Kelly? It better not be anything like drugs or anything gang related,” he said almost yelling now. 

 

“Dad, calm down. It’s not anything like that.”

 

He relaxed a bit and prayed she would tell him something like taxes or tech work. 

 

“It’s with the BAU--” she started calmly trying to pacify him but he soon cut in. 

 

“You’re hunting serial killers?!?!,” he yelled not even bothering to control his temper now. His voice seemed especially loud and harsh in the quiet, empty house. 

 

“...Yeah.”

 

“Kelly--”

 

“Daddy, there’s no reason to be up in arms. I’ve done worse. Remember? I know you don't approve and I don't like it either. I hate the FBI, but it was either this or CIA or NSA or something similar. I didn't have a choice and I’m doing it to protect Choa and all the other Institute kids that are being left alone because I agreed to this. The government doesn’t just let you open a cupcake shop after working in covert ops.” 

 

Gibbs rubbed his hands roughly across his face not able to keep the endless scenarios of her getting hurt, or worse, running through his mind. It was one thing for him to do this, but it was whole other for her to be dragged into this line of work. He tried to think about her previous work as little as possible and it was easier when he felt that it was all behind her. But now he’d spend every minutes of everyday worrying about her more than he already did. 

 

“I just got ya back, Kels..”

 

“And you’re not losing me.”

 

“I could.”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I’ll be careful and do my best.”

 

“You had better,” he growled at her. 

 

Silence settled between them. “You mad at me?,” she asked self-consciously. She didn’t want him to be upset or worry. She knew she could handle what was thrown her way. But she didn’t want it to come at the cost of their relationship.

 

“No,” he said without hesitation and pulled her into a hug. “I’m not happy bout it, but I’ll be damned if it drives a wedge between us, kiddo.” 

 

.   
“So we’re okay?”  
“Always.” 

 

Kelly couldn't help the yawn that came out of her, the weight of the day finally making her tired enough to sleep.

 

“Let’s get you to bed, sleepyhead.”   
“Where are you gonna sleep if I have your bed?”   
“Couch.”  
“No, you’ll hurt your back.”   
“My back is fine.”  
“No it’s not. Share with me. Your bed is big enough. And don’t argue, I’ll bug you all night if I have to.” 

 

He rolled his eyes and agreed to share. He sent her up first while he double checked the windows and the doors making sure they were all locked up for the night. His team didn’t know he was back for good just yet, so he didn’t have to worry about explaining the locked door yet should any of them need him this late. 

 

Gibbs soon joined Kelly in the room where she was already out like a light, legs spread across the bed. He snorted and thought, Is this how you share Kels? He gently moved her to the side and settled next to her. She promptly rolled back over and snuggled into his side. He laughed silently at her wild sleeping habits that hadn’t changed since she was a kid. Gibbs wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close kissing her hair as she snored gently. They had a busy few days and things were about to change for them. Their schedules would be different and he’d have to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t work herself too hard. He reminded himself to call Tobias in the morning to inquire about her department and its members. He knew he was being overprotective but it made him feel better knowing he had someone he trusted to check in on her. Right now, Tobias was the only person who knew about Kelly being back. Gibbs settled in and his mind finally stopped buzzing long enough for him to slip into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter was longer than the others so I hope you all liked it. I’ve seen some suggestions for the BAU team and I’ll take them into consideration as I continue to craft the upcoming chapters. I did see one about a Reid x Kelly pairing but I’m unsure about it since Kelly is still solidly a minor and Reid has to be around 23-26 when the story starts. A touch illegal but I do love the idea so keep them coming. As always leave me reviews and let me know what you liked, hated, and anything you’d like to hear more about or specific scenes and cases from either show you wanna see come to life in this Universe of mine.   
> Love and rockets,   
> AW


	8. New Girl

The gentle pattering of the rain early in the morning lulled Gibbs in and out of consciousness. The splashes of rain against his windows on the peaceful Monday morning made everything that much cozier. The nuzzling at his side startled him a bit and made him look down. Immediately a gentle smiled stretched across his face. Kelly was snuggled into his shoulder, sound asleep. She had officially been in his life again for 2 months and he still wasn’t used to waking up knowing she was there, safe with him again. Knowing she was back home, officially and permanently, made his heart warm all over again. Hugging her closer to place a gentle kiss on her head and slowly extracted her fingers from his shirt to start getting ready for work. He had woken up early to make her breakfast for her first day at work. 

 

The danger of her new job loomed above him like a grey cloud that couldn’t quite shake as he prepared his morning coffee. He grabbed the edge of the counter in the kitchen until his knuckles turned white trying to center himself and settle the worries that plagued him. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t completely alone in this. He had talked to Fornell over the weekend while he and Kelly were at the park. She had run off to play with the dog of some elderly couple when Fornell had rang him. 

 

“Yeah, Gibbs?” 

 

“ Your message last night sounded particularly tense. Already found another restricted crime scene to plunder ?” 

 

Gibbs scoffed and shook his head,“No. No, nothing like that. It's about Kelly.”

 

Tobias sat up straight up on the sofa.“...She alright?” Tobias hesitated a bit. He loved to yank Jethro’s chain but if he needed something from him, especially concerning his daughter, it was serious.

 

“Yeah, look, just keep an eye on her will ya? She'll be working at the BAU in Quantico. Apart of some deal between her and the government.”   
Tobias felt for his friend. He had told him about Kelly working at the FBI. He was shocked to say the least, but after everything else Jethro had told him it was least shocking part of the tale. Gibbs rarely showed concern and never asked for help. But neither had he until Emily had been in danger. He knew the feeling. 

 

“I don't work in that department but I'll make sure she's okay. The agents there are damn good at their jobs and they're decent people. You don't have anything to worry about.”

 

“Not worried about the people as much as the job.” 

 

“Can't say I'd be any better off it were Emily.” 

 

“I’m being overprotective, I know but--” he broke at the end unable to finish. He wiped his face in frustration. He wasn’t used to having heart to hearts with anyone much less Tobias. 

 

“I know. I’ll do what I can.” It was short and simple, but from Tobias it meant he’d do everything in his power to make sure she was well looked after. He’d keep him informed should something happen. 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

The gurgling sound of the coffee maker broke his reverie. He poured himself a mug and made quick work of breakfast for Kelly and himself from the food they bought over the weekend. 

 

Gibbs couldn't remember the last time his fridge and pantry had been this well stocked. She even purchased a new flat screen for the living room that Gibbs refused to acknowledge that he actually liked and was looking forward to watching the game on. Kelly had gone overboard on the new stuff for the house and now he was expecting a new living room and kitchen set to arrive Saturday. It didn't bother him since it made her happy and he never used the main floor anyway. He remembered the look on her face when she saw the bare minimum living conditions he called home ever since his last wife had cleaned him out. She was determined to make their house a real home.   
Gibbs finished the food and set the table with the new plates that clashed with his foldable table. He headed upstairs to wake Kelly up for breakfast. 

 

Gibbs peeked through the door and saw that she had now spread across the bed on her back with her arms rested above her head and hair wildly spilling across the pillows. Gibbs smirked at her disheveled state. Kelly slept like a wild animal.

 

Gibbs sat at the side of the bed and gently shook her shoulder, brushing her hair from her face. “Kels, wake up. Gotta get to work soon.” 

 

She moaned and pushed his hands away, pouting at the disturbance. He tickled her sides until her eyes flew open and she glared at him. He simply smiled back innocently, “C'mon you don't wanna go to work hungry.”

 

“Pancakes?,” she asked her glare disappearing and looking hopeful. 

 

“Nope,” he said popping the ‘p’. “Pancakes are for Saturdays.” Kelly groaned and buried her head under the pillows until Gibbs took it away and tugged her to a sitting position and pulling her to her feet. “I will get you to Quantico by 0900 whether you like it or not.” 

 

Gibbs all but carried her downstairs. Kelly wasn’t a morning person and she was dreading doing this every morning already. She quickly ate her breakfast but didn't feel any more awake than she was 20 minutes ago. Just full. She reached for her dad’s coffee and took a hearty sip only to instantly regret it. This wasn’t regular black coffee, it tasted like tar that had been bubbling in a pit from the jurassic period. Kelly glared at her father, and he just smirked back at her. Hard to take anyone that looked like a pissed off chipmunk seriously. She swallowed it with a shudder and stood up. “I'm gonna go get dressed,” she mumbled. 

 

Kelly headed back to the room she was sharing with her dad until the paint in her room dried. She decided to go with a clean white color for the walls since she had chosen more colorful decor for her room. She had driven her dad crazy with the possibilities comparing swatches and fabrics until she was sure he would never go shopping with her again. 

 

Turning towards the closet she had taken over, she looked at her options. She needed something that would make her look adult and professional. She didn’t wanna overdo it and make herself look insecure so she nixed the dress and heels idea. She settled for a nice, black blazer and slacks combo with a smart white dress shirt underneath. Her ankle suede boots were perfect for the outfit, yet still sensible. She combed her long hair out and fashioned into a crown braid with a few wisp hanging around her face. Looking in the mirror she realized she still needed something to complete the look. She opened her mother’s jewelry box and pulled out some pearl earring framed by a gold design with tiny diamonds inside. She gave herself a quick swipe of nude pink lipstick, grabbed her phone, and headed downstairs. 

 

Gibbs was sitting on the couch all dressed and ready to go. When she rounded the corner and he looked up at her. She twirled and smiled. “First impression?”  
He silently looked her up and down. She trusted his judgement. Kelly had never seen him with newbies but knew he could be a hardass and if she could pass the Gibbs test then she should be home free. “Not really about what you're wearing, Kels, but you’re certainly dressed appropriately.” 

 

“I know, but I already have the job. I just don't wanna seem like some silly kid playing dress up.” Kelly looked down at her outfit. She had played it really safe, she didn’t wanna stick out too much. She figured if she kept her head down and worked hard, she’d be left alone. Spies weren’t a trusted bunch and she liked knowing that perhaps her team wouldn’t know the extent of her work and she’d be able to start anew as a generic, faceless fed.

 

Gibbs stood up and walked over to her noticing she seemed a bit unsure of herself. She was too young to be a federal agent, but obviously exceptions had been made considering the circumstances. Her outfit made her pass for older than her 16 years, she could probably push 21-23 without too many difficulties. Seeing her all dressed up put a twang in his heart. She was growing up so fast, he missed so much of her life, and pushing her into the arms of the FBI wasn’t helping. “You look beautiful, Kels. Just be safe, do what you're told, and don’t take anyone’s crap. I believe in you.” He kissed her head assuringly. 

 

“Thanks, Papa.” 

 

They headed to Gibbs’ car and headed for Quantico. Quantico was out of Gibbs’ way and Kelly knew she needed a car soon. Amus had a license made for that he was giving her today, but she knew Gibbs was gonna give her a hard time after the stunt in Mexico. 

 

“Want to help me pick out car? I can't make you make this drive everyday for me.”

 

“Embarrassed to have your Dad drop you off everyday?”

 

She hadn’t considered that. The horrified look on her face at the sudden realization made him laugh. “If we don’t get any cases this week, we’ll swing by the dealership over the weekend after the furniture gets here,” he managed through his chuckles. He continued sobering a bit, “That is of course if you can prove that you can obey basic traffic laws.” Kelly snorted as they slide through a shoulder in the road going 70mph and side eyed him. He wasn't exactly leading by example. 

 

They pulled in front of the FBI building 15 minutes ahead of time. Butterflies flitted in her stomach as she gazed up at the building. She had been to several federal buildings all over the world. Usually to break in undetected and steal some file. She could remember every alias she had ever used, every accent she had adorned her voice with to sell her cover. But sitting here knowing she didn't have a cover to hide behind, made her feel a bit vulnerable. Being someone else is easy. Being yourself was harder. 

 

“I can hear you overthinking this, Kels. You’ll be fine.”

 

Gibbs hoped he sounded more confident than he felt, but he didn’t doubt her at all. He had to swallow his urge to walk her in and scope it out like her first day of school. He couldn’t do that. Unfortunately, she had to do this alone. But he’d be here for her at the end of the day no matter what happened. 

 

“Thanks, Dad.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek goodbye and stepped out the car. Gibbs waited for her to enter the door before pulling away. 

 

Kelly didn’t allow her trepidation to effect her outwardly. She strode forward confidently, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor echoed in the halls where a few people milled about with files. She approached the stern security guard at the front and showed her badge and building pass. He allowed her to pass through the security checkpoint. She was instructed to meet with Erin Strauss, the Section Chief and the direct superior to her supervisor. She was going in this blind since she didn't read anyone’s file not wanting to form any presumptions ahead of time. Getting to know someone through a file wasn’t what people did when they wanted to establish a genuine connection. The elevator doors opened to reveal a mass of cubicles in an open space filled with natural light, slightly muted by the grey colored walls. There were several people working and chatting amongst each other. The environment seemed friendly and the employees nice. When she entered the space a few faces looked over at her curiously and then at each other. She didn’t have time to make quick small chat. She was due in Strauss’ office in 2 minutes. Above the open area was a balcony that wrapped around the wall. There held a collection of offices for the more senior members and the supervisors. She walked up the stairs on the side of the room and across the balcony steps. The plaques on the wall indicated the assigned doors. Towards the center she saw the one she was looking for. Thankfully the door was open and the Section Chief looked up, sensing her presence in the doorway. 

 

“Ms. Frost, come in. Shut the door,” she smiled in a bit of a guarded manner. Kelly shut the door and walked over to her as the chief stood and shook her hand. She gestured for her to take a seat and Kelly sat taking a subtle look around the office. This woman seemed no nonsense. The bureaucratic type with a soft side if the photos of her family were any indication. Her clothes were muted, sensible yet feminine. She seemed tense and her gait was somewhat constrained. She wasn’t nervous, her expression was actually perfectly controlled. Just wound pretty tight and determined to assert her authority and perhaps a bit suspicious of Kelly. 

 

She sat behind her desk and examined Kelly. Definitely suspicious. Strauss hadn’t known what to expect when the Director of the FBI sent her a new agent without allowing her to be cleared through her or even Aaron first. But the young woman that sat before her didn't seem to fit the bill for all the mystery that surrounded her. She was beautiful and quite young, yet the manner in which she carried herself exuded a presence well beyond her years. The only thing that had been revealed about her was the criminal file that she had. The girl had been on the FBI most wanted list for years, she was wanted for a slew of crimes that were vague in nature yet high profile all the same. No doubt the team was already combing through it curious about their new teammate. Strauss herself didn’t trust her a bit.

 

Kelly was unfazed by the Strauss’ critical eyes on her, and simply let her make her mental notes. She kept her expression calm hiding the amusement she felt. She wasn’t exactly subtle, but the federal type rarely were. They like to play their power cards knowing you’d have to just shut up and take it. It was her first day, so Kelly played nice and kept her sarcastic comments to herself. 

 

“I would say I’ve heard so much about you, but you and I both know that isn't the case. I don’t assume that’s a mistake.”

 

Kelly arched an eyebrow. So Amus hadn’t been just placating her when he said he’d make the details scarce. She liked keeping her personal life personal, but this wasn’t going to buy her any favor with the team or Strauss. Feds liked detailed and descriptive dossiers on the people working with and for them. Mystery and secrecy meant you couldn’t be trusted. 

 

She continued, “You have the position and your supervisor has been made aware of the spot on his team being filled. As...apprehensive as I am about this entire process, the team can’t afford to be too picky at the moment. The team needs another experienced profiler immediately. I have nothing for you here so report you’ll report to Aaron Hotchner from here on out. He’s just two doors down. Good Luck, Special Agent Frost. ” With a meaningful look, Strauss dismissed her and allowed her to leave again.

 

This was one of the things that bothered Kelly about feds. Their hierarchical structure meant jumping through pointless hoops and sitting through meetings where she was talked at rather than with. This was just a pointless checkpoint to let her know the Chief would be watching, waiting for her to slip up. 

 

Kelly turned and made her way to the close office door of Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. She knocked and heard him call her in. She opened the door to take in the man standing behind the desk reading an impossibly thick file. Agent Hotchner gave her a once over and regarded her without the political politeness that Strauss wore. No smiles, no over-examinations. This man was an experienced profiler. He didn't need 5 minutes of awkwards silence trying to make her squirm so he could place her. 

 

“Special Agent Hotchner? I'm Mason Frost. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Hello. Please, sit.” She did. His office was similar to Strauss. Must be a general theme. Grey walls, minimalist decoration and the obligatory family photo. Or in his case, a photo turned toward his desk that she couldn't see. She would guess it was his child since he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Though the pale marks around his finger suggested that he may have been married at one point. He seemed like the type to be married to the job.

 

“I’m going to be frank with you, this position you have filled was not at the consent nor recommendation of me or anyone in this department. I don’t like having agents shoved under my supervision without proper process. I need to trust the members of my team and I can’t lend that to you, especially considering the way you got here.”

 

“I understand.” She did.

“However, I have read your journal profiles that were submitted to the CIA. They are comprehensive and I’m impressed with your grasp of your suspects’ motives and psychological makeup. While I'm apprehensive, I won't deny your proficiency.” 

 

Kelly gave him a small smile and thanked him. He seemed nice and fair. She didn't have many expectations, but he certainly put her worries at ease. Working for him would be interesting. They continued to chat and she told him what she could of previous cases and her projections based on the evidence. He had some questions about some of her conclusions from her journal and how they were executed which she gladly answered. She didn't have many people she could talk to about he work, and Zetes never cared about the how just the end results of her decisions. 

 

From below, Kelly and Hotch were unaware that they were being watched by the rest of the team. Morgan and Garcia had been chatting away when the new recruit had strolled in, only glancing at them briefly before stalking off the Strauss’ office. 

 

“That the new, profiler?” 

 

“I think so,” Morgan said staring up Hotch’s door. 

 

Rossi strolled up behind beside them and looked over wondering why the wall had their rapt attention. He looked back down at the file in his hands and shook his head, “Staring at the color of the wall won't change the color.” 

 

“You didn't see her?,” Garcia said swirling around to face him. 

 

“See who?” 

 

“The new profiler! She's talking to Hotch now.” 

 

Rossi scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, “I didn't know he was interviewing anyone.”  
“Not an interview, according to Garcia, she's already got the job,” Morgan said lowly.   
Rossi closed the file he was looking at, “Guess he’s not wasting any time. We’re a bit short staffed at the moment, we’ll need the help.” 

 

Garcia looked back up at the office and then turned to Morgan, “Wanna check her out? I haven’t read her file yet.”

 

“You make a habit of reading everyone’s file Ms. Nosey?,” Morgan teased. 

 

“Of course. C’mon,” she said quickly as she pulled Morgan along and looked over her shoulder at Rossi, “Coming Rossi?”

 

Rossi opened his file back up and headed for his office,“No thanks. I think I’ll just meet her the old fashioned way.”

 

Penelope and Derek headed towards her office and shut the door behind them. Penelope immediately starting typing away and found her name newly added to the team roster. Derek leaned over her shoulder to get a better look.

 

“See? This is how I knew. She was officially added by Human Resources last Friday.” 

 

“What do we know about her?” 

 

Penelope began searching her name through the database system, “Patience is a virtue, my love. Okay, so--” Penelope stopped when the file came up blank. Outside of headshot, a name, and title there was nothing there. “How can there be nothing? Everyone has something. She doesn't even have an address or date of birth.”

 

“Try running her name throughout the FBI database in general, not just what the BAU has for her.” 

 

“Okay, let’s see,” Garcia typed furiously into the database running her name. “Nothing. No name, no social, no nothing.”

 

“Maybe she did some confidential work under another name,” Morgan suggested trying to suppress his growing concerns. “Mason and Kelly are common first names, but Frost isn't a surname you see a lot so maybe it's an alias she’s grown attached to.” 

 

“Good thinking,” Garcia ran the new parameters and several pages popped up with flaggings attached to them. “Oh goodness.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Look at these flags on the files. They’re high priority cases.” The pages began flying across her screen, overlapping one another. High priority cases had blinking stamps across them.

 

“So she’s worked high profile, confidential cases before this?”

 

Garcia opened the page and received a cautionary notification from the archives including several CIA notices. 

 

“Derek...She didn’t work these cases. She was the reason for them. She was a person of interest for an explosion of a factory in Cedar City,Utah in which over 150 personnel members were killed. She was wanted for connections to a warlord in Somalia, arms dealing in Russia, the disappearance and death of several embassy workers in Iran, child trafficking in Latin America oh my god. Just goes on and on.” 

 

“Are there any pictures, Garcia? We can’t just go off an alias.” 

 

Garcia began processing through the articles and case files of any images that would connect the two women. A black and white image of a woman sitting in a field on the hood of a Jeep appeared clipped to an confidential file. The woman was lounging amongst several Taliban members and a military grade weapon in her hands surrounded by a group at least 20 young girls . She had blonde hair in the image, donned fatigues, and had shades on her head but the likeness was undeniable. “That’s her,” Garcia whispered her voice shook as she stared at the picture. “Derek she’s a criminal. And not even just a criminal who did some sketchy stuff that wasn’t all that consequential, you know like me, a real one who has shot and killed innocent people and sold child like a, like a monster,” her rambling broke off at the end as her voice broke and tears gathered in her eyes. 

 

Rossi walked in suddenly startling her, “Hey, Garcia could you pull something for me? I need a some details from a kidnapping case in Oregon in order to seal the file.” 

 

Rossi took in her teary expression and paused,“Am I interrupting something…?”

 

“No. It’s the new profiler she---come look,” Garcia got up and waved him over to sit in her seat. She sat him down and as began scrolling through encrypted files. 

 

Morgan simply stared at the screen not saying anything. Why would Hotch hire her? Did he know about this? He didn’t want to make snap judgements but it was hard to deny what was in front of him as anything other than the worst case scenario. A beeping noise made Rossi’s hands freeze over the keyboard as the file pages began closing. “What’s happening?”

 

“I dont know,” Garcia hopped back in her seat ready to counterattack whatever had targeted her system, “Looks like the walls are coming down. Someone knows we’re looking. All the information is being pulled and removed from my access.” 

 

“Like a hacker?,” Morgan asked wondering who would want access to this. 

 

“No the coding is too complex for that. I’m trying to stop them but they're moving too fast.”

 

“This ever happen before?” 

 

“Only once when the CIA blocked me from..,” she started to say absently until she realized what was happening. The CIA was confiscating the files from FBI records. Someone didn’t want them seeing these files. Before she could open her mouth to tell them, the files were gone and they was staring at the FBI screensaver.

 

“I need to talk to Hotch,” Rossi stood up and quickly headed for . Garcia and Morgan followed him out the door. 

 

\-------------

 

Hotch had his reservations about the new agent, especially regarding her background. Strauss had informed him that a new agent would be joining the ranks without being screened by him first. Hotch had approved every member of the team beforehand, including Garcia who had also found herself in legal trouble before the FBI had given her an alternative opportunity. But Frost’s file was impossibly thick even with redactions by the CIA. He didn’t know what she had been sent to do or where her motives lied. She was a skilled spy and no doubt knew how to put him at ease to keep him from suspecting anything based her on body language or otherwise. Her demeanor was warm and disarming, but she was obviously hiding something. At best she was sent by upper command to be the eyes and ears for this department. Ever since Emily passed the team was being looked at by the bureau for the events surrounding her death and the way the team was handling it. At worst, there were too many possibilities to consider.

 

He would keep an eye on her and he had no doubt she would do the same. Their combined skills would have them playing mind games on each other until one of them felt compelled to show their hand. He didn’t trust her, but he wasn’t allowed to question her about the case files he had found. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team would find out. They all had clearance to access the edited confidential information. None of it painted her in a good light and left one asking questions that led to the worst possible conclusions. Secrecy and confidentiality didn't make for a great team dynamic. 

 

“Your place on this may have been a decision made far above Strauss and I, but your longevity is not. If I feel that your incapable of completing your duties or following orders, I will relieve you of your responsibilities immediately,” he said firmly. His eyes conveyed what he didn't say aloud. Kelly knew he had seen something, she could read the accusations. Amus said her work history would be made available, but the FBI Most Wanted List had been her home sweet home for far too long for them to not notice it. The powers above were probably allowing it to hang in the database system as an ever present threat. If she disobeyed or stepped of bounds, they revive those alerts and she’d be the most wanted person in several countries. Narratives were so easy to twist…

 

“Understood, sir.” 

 

“Good. The rest of the team is just downstairs.”

 

Hotch stood and led her towards the door. Just as they stepped over the threshold, Rossi and the team stopped in front of him nearly running in them.

 

“Ah, here they are,” Hotch said calmly ignoring the bewilderment and urgency in their eyes as they looked between. He knew they’d find out sooner or later but it he didn’t expect it to be this soon. Either way he didn’t let the concern trepidation he felt show on his face. He felt the same but there was nothing he could. The Director had made it clear that he had no say in the matter. 

 

“This is Special Agent Frost. She’ll be joining the team.”

 

Kelly felt like she could cut the tension in the air as silence settled among them. The tall African-American man seemed to be the most openly accusatory though he didn’t say anything. There was a tall, older dark-haired man who was subtly sharing quick glances with Agent Hotchner over her head. The full figured blonde woman with a looked like she had seen a ghost. Her clothes were a little too unique to be an agent but Kelly liked her style all the same. Seemed like a small team, even including her. Though the size of the group didn’t temper the hostility brimming on the edge that made her skin feel hot. She decided to break the tension with a small smile and finally speak up. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” she gently but didn't move to shake their hands. They probably wouldn't take it and she wouldn’t know who to start with anyway. 

 

“Where’s Reid,” Hotch asked trying to dissolve the tension by shifting the subject. 

 

“Right here. Sorry I’m late I didn’t realize there was an impromptu meeting today,” a young man spoke up cheerfully walking over to the group oblivious to the atmosphere. He seemed almost as young as Kelly with a skinny stature and floppy brown hair.

 

“There’s not. This is our new team member, Special Agent Frost.”

 

Reid smiled politely, albeit a bit awkwardly, and waved. “Nice meet you, Special Agent Reid.” 

 

“Its uh, I actually prefer Doctor,” he corrected nicely. 

 

“Oh, nice. Did you got to medical school or do you have a PhD.?,” Kelly questioned politely. He was the only one that wasn’t trying to stare holes into her face. 

 

“Three actually. Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering. How did you join the BAU?”

 

Kelly opened her mouth to answer and noticed everyone else seemed to want to know how she would respond until Hotch cut in to save,“I need to get to a meeting with Strauss. Frost, hand in that paperwork I gave you to Garcia before you leave today. Reid show her the desk next to you she can use.” 

 

Reid pointed her in the other direction and she walked off chatting politely with Reid about his time at the BAU. It was easier than talking about herself, and she preferred to listen to others anyway. 

 

The others watched them walked away until they were out of earshot. Hotch knew what was coming and wasn’t ready for it. Explaining this to Rossi was one thing, Morgan was another entirely. 

 

“Hotch, what’s going on?,” Morgan asked tensely. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Don't play that with me, you know what,” Morgan said trying to keep his temper level. He continued, “Do you have any idea what the FBI has on her? The CIA? Why would add someone like to the team? Especially after what happened with Prentiss.”

 

“Morgan, you may not like all the decisions I make, I understand that. But you do have to accept them.” Rossi looked between them quietly reading tension. Morgan had always spoken his mind and Hotch had never been in the business of explaining himself to the team. His defenses were up more, and it usually took longer for Morgan to get him to this point.

 

“I’m gonna go,” Garcia said scurrying back, her jewelry clicking with every step she took. She hated when her team fought.

 

“Accept them? How can I accept what you're shoving down our throats knowing what we saw?” Morgan paused trying to read Hotch’s face and he could see the guilt in his eyes. The one that let him know that Hotch wasn’t as sure about Frost’s place as he wanted to make everyone think. Morgan scoffed, seeing all he needed to and walked away leaving Hotch and Rossi on the balcony alone. 

 

Rossi turned to look at his friend as he took a deep breath and returned his gaze. “Dave, I know its not--”

 

“I’m not gonna give you a hard time, Aaron. Getting some heat from above?” 

 

“A bit. I don't know a lot, but it's on purpose.”

 

“You don’t think you’ll be able to trust her?”

 

“You seen her file?”

 

“Oh yeahhh,” Rossi drawled and shook his head. “Was wondering where your head was at for a minute there. So what now?”

 

“I don't know. The team doesn't need any more distractions or a reason not to trust each other.”

 

“So why don’t you desk her? Keep her off field duty and in the office. How old is she anyway? She doesn’t even look old enough to buy lotto ticket, much less carry a gun and work for the FBI.”

 

Hotch sighed in resignation. He hated having his hand forced against his better judgement, “Because those weren’t my orders.” Without another word Hotch stalked off and headed for Erin’s office leaving Rossi in the hallway to watch Frost and Reid chat from the balcony. 

\---------------

The sun outside was high in the sky and despite the humid air, Frost felt the air wash into her lungs and free her body from stress in her shoulders. The day had been a bit crap and she needed some comfort food. Thankfully it was finally over. Kelly hailed a nearby cab and headed for NCIS to meet her dad for lunch. 

 

All the careful optimism she had felt walking in had been snatched from her with one look from the team. She spent the duration of the day sitting at her desk, filling out forms and getting death looks. Morgan probably hated her the most, followed closely by Garcia who still managed a cold shoulder despite her obvious fear. She treated Kelly like the boogeyman but was still determined to stand up to her. She couldn’t fault her entirely for that and kind of admired her resolve. Rossi looked more stern and disapproving but stayed in his office so she couldn’t exactly place him. Reid was nice. Out of everyone, he seemed like the most of out the gossip loop and probably didn’t read whatever the other had see. He talked a lot, babbled really, but it was nice. She liked listening to him, he knew quite a bit so she enjoyed asking him random question just to see what little facts lied in his head. 

 

Leaning back against the seat she sighed wondered just how she was going to make this work. They all had to work together, so perhaps work would eventually distract them enough to ignore the barriers between them. But just by reading their body language and the bits of information she had gotten from her supervisor, they all seemed closer than coworkers and bore the scars of having seen each other through some personal battles. For the first time in awhile, Kelly suddenly missed her friends from the Institute. She had never been the outsider before, always the centerpiece. No one had ever made her feel like she didn’t belong but this was obviously going to be the awkward high school experience she had never gotten.

 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the NCIS. She leaned forward and paid her driver plus a tip for the silent ride. She wouldn’t have been very good company anyway.

 

Stepping out, Kelly walked towards the security gate and flashed the guard her badge and gave him her name. Her father had given security the heads up in case she ever needed to visit so she was granted immediate access. 

 

The elevator doors to the bullpen opened and she looked around curiously. When she was a kid, her father didn’t really have an office building she could visit. Warzones were where he spent his time, and thus bring your kid to work days were out of the question. The bullpen was more spacious and bright than the FBI office she had been assigned to. The room was a rows of cubicles with generous spaces between each row. There was a balcony space far above their heads that led to a few rooms upstairs. 

 

No one really looked up from their desks when she walked in noticing her visitor badge. She searched for her dad, but he wasn’t in her immediate line of vision. She walked to right and noticed the desks facing her were empty. Looking over she saw her father’s silver head and strode over in front where he was typing away with one hand and shaking an empty coffee cup with the other. She placed both hands on his desk and leaned in,“I’ll buy you another coffee if you buy me some ice cream, old man.”

 

He looked up at her and glared playfully, “Coffee is cheaper than ice cream. ‘Specially the kind you like.”

 

She shrugged, “I’m worth it. You shaved your mustache. Thank God.”

 

He nodded and stood from his desk, “Though you liked the mustache and hated the beard.”

 

“Oh, I hated both. The beard and stache combo made you look like Santa’s alcoholic younger brother. The moustache gave you creepy old man vibes.” 

 

Gibbs rolled his eyes and sighed putting his jacket on, “Can always count on you to be honest, Kels.”

 

“That’s what I’m here for. C’mon I need food and sugar, I’m starving,” she whined dragging him to the elevator. 

 

The local cafe where Gibbs got his coffee also served sandwiches and ice-cream. It was a nice mom and pop parlor that Kelly wished was in Quantico too. The nice hardwood floors and comfy couches and tables gave it a comfy feeling. Gibbs and Kelly ordered their food and sat down waiting for the waitress to serve them. 

 

“How was your first day?,” her father asked sipping from his fresh jamaican blend black coffee. 

 

“Tense. Nice. Kind of awkward.”

 

“Sounds normal.”

 

“It wasn’t,” she lamented as the waitress came over and place their food and drinks in front of them. “By the time I left the supervisors office, my whole team found out about my less than stellar track record at the FBI.”

 

“What happened with you and the FBI?”

 

“What didn’t is a better question. I’ve got a file down there thicker than the Harry Potter Series. I’m also no stranger to their wanted list. I can only imagine what they found, but whatever it was made them give my wide berth and death stares all day.”

 

He grunted, “How’s the boss?”

 

“Fair. Nice enough, don't think he cares for me. I can't blame after everything I imagine he’s gone through because of me.”

 

Gibbs chewed his food and scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

 

“The Bureau didn’t give him much say about me joining the team. Amus did say they would force his hand but I didn’t stop to think about how that would make him feel about me. I didn’t give it much thought back then, because I only cared about not being at the Institute anymore.”

 

Gibbs nodded, “No team lead wants to have his authority brushed aside, especially if he doesn’t trust the new recruit. You’re gonna have to bust your butt to make him see you as an asset. ”

 

Frost sipped at her smoothie knowing he was right. It was only Monday and she already wanted a good weekend to recharge. That wasn’t an option though, and she was expected at work at 8 o'clock sharp the next morning. Hopefully they would get a case or something and then she could throw herself into her work and prove herself that way. She wasn’t confident in her skills to get them to like her, but she knew she was a good profiler and her work ethic would speak louder than she could. 

 

While Kelly and Gibbs continued to talk about his recent case, Tony watched them from the other side of the cafe. He and Ziva were supposed to be out questioning a suspect and had only stopped in for a quick bite when he saw Gibbs sitting at the table with a young, pretty woman he didn’t recognize. 

 

“Zee-vah. Zee-vah!,” Tony whisper hissed from behind the pillar to his partner who was staring at the pastry case. 

 

“What?,” She said annoyed and turned around to face him.

 

“Lower your voice and come here,” Tony gestured from behind the pillar. 

 

Ziva walked over already agitated with Tony’s antics for the day. Her feet hurt and she had a hunger headache. The last thing she felt like doing was playing into another one of Tony’s juvenile games. 

 

“Don’t turn now but Gibbs is having lunch with some woman that is definitely not a redhead on your 3 o’clock.”

 

Ziva turned expecting see one of the women from the case they were working. He usually made a point to get close to women that showed in interest in him for information. But this girl wasn’t a suspect and was a lot younger than any of his ex-wives. 

 

“Well, she has some red in her hair. You can see it when the light hits it.”

 

“Yeah, but she’s not his type. Don’t get me wrong, she’s gets a solid 10 from Tony DiNozzo, but I didn’t think younger women were his thing. Maybe he’s having a midlife crisis.”

 

“Tony he’s not having a midlife crisis. It doesn’t even look like a date. They're just talking, not even laughing or anything.”

 

“I wouldn’t either. Have you met Boss? He’s not exactly a comedian.”

 

Ziva rolled her eyes at Tony. While she was admittedly curious, they didn't have time to wonder about every mysterious element of Gibbs’ life. Even with Gibbs’ full dossier, there were still things that made her wonder about her Boss. 

 

“Let’s go, Tony. Gibbs is gonna murder us if we come back empty handed,” Ziva pushed her nosey partner out the door and headed back to the car. 

 

When they were pulling out the parking lot, Ziva spotted Gibbs tussling the mystery woman’s hair while she licked at the ice cream in her hand. It was an odd gesture for someone his age with a love interest. Maybe Gibbs had found someone new. He had been a lot happier since coming back from Mexico and everyone was happy to have him back. He seemed more at ease and, aside from the strained relationship between him and Ducky, he was happy. Maybe his new, young, hot girlfriend was the reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Okay this chapter took me a lot longer than the others and I’m not really happy with it. Kelly will begin working a case so let me know which case y’all would like to be her first. Also, let me know how y’all feel about Hollis Mann. She is apart of the this season on NCIS that I’m writing Gibbs into. I don't personally care for her, but I know Kelly being in Gibbs’ life may change the way he perceived Hollis and set a different tone for their relationship. As always leave reviews and let me know how it was. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written a story before. This is my first attempt at anything of the sort. I welcome your comments, feedback, criticisms, and anything else you may have to offer me to better my stories or writing. I have taken a lot of liberty with the timeline and claim creative control to do whatever with it, especially since the NCIS timeline tends to be a little wonky. I do not own NCIS or Criminal minds nor any of its wonderful characters.


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